


Red Strings and Violent Things

by urbanconstellations



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Not very graphic depictions of violence, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-16 16:24:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11832507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urbanconstellations/pseuds/urbanconstellations
Summary: There is an old Chinese myth about a red string of Fate, that is intertwined around two souls by the gods. The cord may stretch, or tangle, but never break.Two boys fall in love in Brooklyn, slowly and full of promise. As they fall, their string unwinds to catch them. Seventy five years later, that string finds its way back home.After the Winter Soldier pulls Steve Rogers out of the Potomac, he isn’t quite sure where to begin putting the pieces back together. Steve Rogers is spending his time pulling on threads, while trying to follow his own. Their strings will pull them through memories and doubt, until they wind up on a pier, wound together again.Seventy- Five years in fits and starts.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my [Tumblr](http://urban--constellations.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It's been an ride! This was my first Stucky Big Bang, and this is my first Ao3 fic ever! Feel free to drop a comment and let me know what you think. This idea had been turning in my head for a while, so I'm excited to finally put it out into the world!
> 
> I also wanna thank my lovely artists starmaki and sorrowingsoldier for picking my fic! Their work is amazing and so, so pretty! 
> 
> And a big thank you to everyone I met on the Slack! I learned so much from you guys and this fic probably wouldn't have been finished without all your help and input! (What's good bee squad)

_A lanky, golden boy, fighting in an alley. Fighting a fight he knew he wouldn’t win, but he was going to fight regardless. The taller, stronger, kid who’d come to tell him when it was over._

_The lanky kid grew up. The gold turned to bronze and the pale, fragile limbs turned to steel._

_Who was the stronger one now? It didn’t matter, because he still needed someone to follow him anywhere._

_The dull, metal gray turns to rushing, rushing, blinding ice white, in what felt like a second. The brown haired boy grew up too. That didn’t mean he could be saved._

_The blinding, cold white never quite goes away. It structures his bones, rips him a new skin.The cold is mixed with that warm, warm, bronze. It tears the sheets and cobwebs of ice right from his hands as he watches it fall into a rushing, rushing, river._

_It never stops rushing away from him, faster than he can take it all in._

_Wake up, wake up, wake up. Follow it. Go home._

The Soldier woke up in a shaky haze. His eyes wanted to block out the sun, but they were finally seeing again. He noticed the colors he’d been missing. The grass, the sky, the dark of the clothes he had not quite figured out weren't a part of who he was anymore. He averted his eyes, the sun was still too much. A little too bright for all the dark he was still carrying. The Soldier sat up and blocked out the light again, devised the first part of his plan. Should he have a plan? He didn’t think anyone was coming to get him this time. He looked down at the water that trailed next to him. He had walked until the river turned to a stream, and it didn’t feel quite so cold anymore. The Soldier looked down at his clothes. He should acquire new ones, but his weapons should be kept. Step one.

_The Soldier._

_Bucky._

Was that his name? It was what the man- _Steve,_ had called him. The Soldier remembered enough of Steve to know he wasn’t lying about who he thought The- The _Soldier_ was.

_Who the hell is Bucky? Where do I find him again?_

Clothes first, avoid arrest, find Steve, _and_ Bucky, go home. Something like that. Easier thought of than acted on. Bucky stood on legs that were shaky from strain and recent disuse. The ache is his right arm had dulled to a muted throbbing. He’d have to do something about that. First, steal clothes, hide weapons, _don’t fall- don’t fall._

★★★★★

Steve Rogers had only been out of the hospital for two days when Natasha Romanoff handed him a thick, yellowed folder with all the information on the Winter Soldier she could find. She left him with a soft warning about pulling on this particular thread. What she didn’t know, was that this was the only thread he had worth pulling on, and he’d already begun before she even turned around. He didn’t plan to let go, either.  

★★★★★

The Soldier had found a place to hide, for now. A dark, semi-warm warehouse on the outskirts of the city. His new clothes had turned damp by the humid air. All of The Soldier’s possessions were held by a thick black backpack. Were they his? Those sharp, clean killing tools. Tools that worked, most of the time. Until Steve Rogers. The Soldier wasn’t sure if he had failed or not anymore, though. The Soldier wasn’t even sure his head was his own, but it was all he could remember ever knowing, ever feeling, if he was feeling anything at all.

The Soldier shook his head, dirty brown strands swaying. He found a corner- a good vantage point to scope the exits for activity, and sat. The Soldier felt the crawling sensation of waiting, but he couldn’t place what for. The Soldier figured it was safe to stay here for a few days, but after that was uncertain. Did he find Steve? Would Steve even want to see him? Did he need to turn himself in? No, not yet. Not before- not before he saw Steve. The Soldier needed answers, an explanation, something to tell him why he was really here- who he really was.

So he waited. Waited for Steve, or the agents Steve worked for. Or maybe just for the will to move again, to find what he was really looking for.

★★★★★

Sam was wrong. Fucking _wrong_.

 “All I'm saying is, maybe you should let him go for a while. Take the rose colored glasses off and stop thinking of him as the Bucky you knew before. You gotta admit this dude is at least a little dangerous.”

 Sam didn’t get to continue his reasoning, because Steve was already shaking his head, turning on his heel to pace the floor again.

 “Sam, he didn’t ask for this. Whether or not he’s who I knew before, I still need to find him. He’d do it for me.” Steve sighed, lowering his face into his hands.

 He couldn’t just fucking let this go, not now, not ever if he was being honest. Bucky was probably alone and confused and afraid and that wasn’t right. Not if Steve could make it better, even a little.

_He’d do it for me._

 “I know, man. Just don’t push too much. There are probably some things you don’t wanna see.” Sam was giving him that look. That silent understanding that made Steve feel like he wasn’t alone in this but also made Steve want to pull at his hair because did Sam _really_ understand?

Steve had never told him, or anyone for that matter about who he really was. Who he and Bucky used to be. SteveandBucky. One cell, wrapped around each other until you couldn’t tell where the other one stopped or started. Steve couldn’t just let this go.

★★★★★

**New York City, 1936**

Bucky was drunk. Absolutely, positively, _sauced_ . He’d strolled right into that bar after work, immediately making a beeline for the bartender. A few too many glasses of whiskey to count later, Bucky was stumbling through the front door of the tiny, worn down apartment he shared with Steve. _Steve_. The reason Bucky had gotten so drunk. He giggled at that, effectively alerting the skinny blond of Bucky’s presence.

Steve peered up at Bucky from over the top of his thick book.

"Hey Buck, what's goin’ on?” Steve questioned, setting his book on the rickety wooden table in front of him.

Steve’s big blue eyes were waiting for an answer while his perfect, plush lips were pulled down into a pout. It made Bucky want to cry and try to touch all at the same time. Bucky giggled again. _God_ he was such a damned sucker.

“Nothin’ much Stevie. How's your date?” Bucky was slurring now, stumbling across the creaky floor to drop onto the other end of the threadbare couch.

Steve sighed and shrugged. That meant it must have been bad. That was good. For Bucky, at least.

“It was all right, sure, but every time another fella walked past she’d look at him all weepy, like she would've rather been with him.” Steve looked down at the hands tangled together in his lap, sighing again.

“Aw, Stevie, don’t get all upset on me. I'm sure she liked ya plenty. Who wouldn't, pal?”

Bucky really meant that. He couldn't see why anyone wouldn't love that kid. I mean, Stevie was _everything._ He was beautiful and kind and talented and quick as a whip. Steve Rogers was damn near perfect, and it was absolutely devastating. Bucky knew he should feel bad for hoping Steve’s dates didn't work out, he really did, but he couldn't help but hope they all went down the drain. That way, Stevie’d come home to Bucky and tell him all about it with that pretty pout and those big wide ocean eyes. That way, Steve wouldn’t find someone it was okay to love, and leave Bucky behind.

 _Jesus Christ_ Bucky was a selfish bastard.

The boozed up, giddy, Bucky Barnes didn’t seem to care much, though. He settled back into the stiff couch, watching Steve pout some more.

“Ah geez, Rogers look at that mug. It’ll be just fine, pal.”

Bucky leaned forward and slapped a sweaty hand onto Steve’s skinny shoulder, causing Steve to jump.

“Quit flappin’ your kisser, Barnes. It ain’t gonna be fine,” Steve snapped, he seemed more frustrated than sad, now.

Bucky frowned. If Steve couldn’t see it, Bucky would have to show him. Bucky hopped up from the couch, abruptly stumbling towards Steve’s end of it, effectively flopping gracelessly into Steve’s arms. Steve shoved him off and crossed his arms.

“Jesus you’re drunk, Buck.” Steve assessed.

“Huh. Hadn’t noticed.” Bucky smirked crookedly.

Steve sighed. “Shut it Barnes. I’m surprised you made it home without a ride in a black-and-white.”

“Aw, you gonna sing Rogers? Let ‘em can me?”

“No, idiot. You need water. And sleep. You’re ridiculous,” Steve got up and grabbed Bucky’s wrist, tugging gently. “Come on.”

Bucky suddenly remembered what he was attempting a few moments ago. He tugged his wrist back.

“No, no Stevie come on. C’mere.”

Bucky grabbed a hold of Steve’s shoulder again and steered him to their bedroom. He  used Steve’s lanky frame to navigate to the window.The smaller man stepped aside while Bucky yanked it up, a little harder than necessary, and pulled Steve back over to him.

“Out ya go Rogers.” Bucky chirped, unceremoniously pushing Steve towards the rusted fire escape.

Steve gave him a look like he’d lost his mind, but went along with it nonetheless. Bucky crawled out after him, taking a deep breath of the cool summer evening breeze. The two of them wandered (tripped and cursed in Bucky’s case), up to the roof. Bucky plopped down on on the dusty shingling, yanking Steve down with him. From up there, you could see the stars a little on a clear night like that one. Bucky pulled Steve closer with an arm thrown around his wispy frame.

“Listen here, kid. Look at all those fuckin’ stars. They’re like you. They’re special and bright and people need ‘em around to live and shit. Those stars are really old but they’re doin’ just fine. You’re eighteen Rogers, you gotta lotta time ‘fore you’re an old star.”

Bucky nods to himself. A job well done. Steve needed to know just how damned great he was. How it was far from over for him. Bucky looked over a second later when he felt Steve’s body shaking silently. Had he made Steve cry with his comparison?

Steve was laughing. Laughing so hard tears were streaming out of his eyes already.

“Christ you really are sauced, Buck.” Steve gasped between breathless laughs.

Bucky just gaped at him.

“What’d I do, Steve?” It was Bucky’s turn to pout, now.

Steve caught his breath enough to respond, narrow chest still heaving.

“‘You’re like those stars’, Buck?” With that Steve fell into another fit of giggles.

Bucky removed his arm from Steve’s person and crossed it over his other one instead.

“You are, Stevie. Any dame’d be lucky to have you.” Bucky stared into those eyes again, waiting for the confirmation that Steve got it, that he knew.

Steve smiled this time. All soft and quiet. Bucky wanted to match that smile with one of his own, and slowly fit their lips together, all the puzzle pieces in place.

“Thanks, Bucky. That’s real nice of you to say. Really.”

Steve patted Bucky’s back gently, and Bucky smiled up at the stars. Steve really was a star. An explosive fireball, but beautiful all the same. And the center of Bucky’s universe.

Bucky leaned into Steve and rested his cheek lightly on top of the blond’s head. Steve leaned back and gave a little content sigh. Bucky’s heart grew a little more full at the sound. The brunet turned his head, eyes closing slightly at the feeling of Steve’s honey hair. Bucky laid a gentle kiss on his temple, savoring the feeling of the soft skin there. Steve just sighed again. He’d been doing that lately, though Bucky couldn’t deduce why for the life of him. Bucky smiled, Bucky had been doing that lately.

“You’re a star, Stevie.”

★★★★★

The Soldier jolted awake. The sun had gone down, and the moon cast soft lines of light through the slats in the boarded up windows. His eyes took a moment to adjust to their presence. The Soldier sat up and squinted. The stars could  be seen from this vantage point. The Soldier could not seem to shake the thought of one star in particular from his mind, though. Steve used to look different, smaller. Bucky had too. But the stars were the same. Twinkled down over rooftops and rickety old fire escapes. Maybe  
Steve had seen them too. The Asset couldn’t help but wonder. 

_Who the hell is Bucky?_


	2. Chapter 2

Steve woke to the sun in his eyes. Gold slices spreading across his skin like spilled water. He hadn’t slept that long in days. Hadn’t given himself the time. Steve had been spending his days pulling threads until he was sure they’d snap, and driving himself damn near insane with theories and conjectures as to where Bucky could have gone. Steve had been checking up and down D.C for something,  _ anything. _ Maybe there was a chance Bucky had stayed close. Wanted to  _ see Steve.  _ It was wishful thinking at best, Steve knew. But he still looked.  _ Nothing.  _ Anywhere. It had only been a week, but Steve had a thick file full of information. Maybe it was time to expand the search. 

Then the doorbell rang.

Steve’s new apartment was smaller than the last one he’d had in D.C. Sam had offered to let Steve stay with him, but Steve needed a space to himself. Sam would try to get him to slow it down, but Steve had threads to yank.

He traversed the mostly furniture bare space, before throwing the door open, foregoing the action of looking through the peephole.

No one was there. Steve took a sweeping look around. Not a soul. Warily, he swung the door shut and made his way back into his bedroom, where his shield was propped against the wall. Listening for a while longer, he heard nothing. Strange.

★★★★★

The Soldier darted through the door at the end of the hallway and into the stairwell as fast as he could get his legs to carry him. What the  _ hell _ was he thinking? He couldn’t just go to Steve’s apartment. Not without more observation. Steve probably didn’t even want to see him. The Soldier had tried to kill Steve and his friends. Not a great conversation starter. He took his time slinking through alleys and backstreets, until The Soldier reached the warehouse he was calling home.  _ Home. _ All The Soldier could think of when it came to that word was the very person he’d been pursuing the past few days. The Soldier had followed Steve Rogers while he traipsed around the city doing God knows what. The Soldier hadn’t risked getting close enough to find out. 

The third day The Soldier spent following his last mission, he took a detour. A museum exhibit had pulled at his attention:

_ Captain America: The Living Legend and Symbol of Courage. _

He would pick up tailing Rogers later. Pulling his baseball cap a little lower and shoving his hands as far into his pockets as they would go, The Soldier ducked inside.

The exhibit was swarming with people, an ocean of spectators.  _ Perfect. _ Just the right amount of people to make sure The Soldier wouldn’t be seen in anything more than a passing glance. It still put him on edge. So many people in an enclosed place with an assassin who didn’t quite have an idea as to how his own head operated. He’d have to make it quick. 

The exhibit itself stretched through several rooms and into a theater. Each section displaying a different part of Steve’s life. Photographs of the lanky, pale Brooklyn kid from a dream. Propaganda and film reels of the gold plated legend. Rounding a corner, The Soldier stopped short.

_ This _ was a part of Steve’s life, too.

On a raised platform in the center of the room was a display. A half circle of old uniforms, standing at attention below the image of who it had belonged to. Captain Rogers and the Howling Commandos. A motley crew of misfit adventurers. On the Captain’s left, stood the man The Soldier had been trying to get to know. The best friend of Steve Rogers on schoolyard and battlefield. Sniper to the Commandos. The only one to give his life. James Buchanan Barnes.

The Soldier wasn’t sure exactly how long he stared at that uniform below his likeness, reaching for any misplaced semblance of how The Soldier could be this man. This  _ hero. _ All The Soldier did was kill and take. He didn’t know who this man was. The Soldier turned, and swept through the room a little too quickly to be inconspicuous. He stepped towards another display, breathing in to steady himself. The Soldier felt strange, like he was seeing something he wasn’t supposed to. The feeling crawled up his spine and gnawed at his brain. This display was of James Buchanan Barnes, on his own this time. A photograph next to a biography. The Soldier had it right in front of him. An explanation of who he was. Who  _ Steve _ thought he was, but this wasn’t The Soldier. This wasn’t right. He moved on, now peering at an ancient film reel. The Captain and this Bucky man laughing together. Laughing like despite the loss and disillusions, it might just end up all right.

The Soldier did not know what that felt like. He had never gotten to learn. But Steve Rogers was convinced The Soldier knew. It was then that The Soldier’s body decided to try out something new. Something there was only the slightest pang of memory for in his mind. He wanted to know. The Soldier wanted to find Steve Rogers and tell him He knew. The Soldier  _ wanted. _ He wanted and nothing had happened. No vehement slaughter of his recent memories. No burst of pain as the shocks tore into him. Not a scream. Not a sound. The Soldier could get what he wanted, and nothing would stop him there, either. The man felt like there was a thread wrapped around his head, tugging just a little every time he thought of Steve Rogers.

★★★★★

Steve felt wrong. On edge, like something dangerous was going to occur at any moment. He had felt like this all week. Like he might even be followed or watched by someone not quite close enough to sense. Steve Rogers felt like he was being observed. Not by the public or anyone around him, he’d kept a low profile, but by someone. An outlier in the statistic. It had been swirling around the edge of his brain long enough for Steve to contemplate it a little. The small, slightly idealistic part of his brain that belonged to stored away for later thoughts about Bucky Barnes, was telling Steve he might have an idea as to why he felt the way he did. He wanted desperately to be right. 

★★★★★

The Soldier had been tailing Rogers for about an two hours before anything moderately interesting happened. The whole walk around D.C, from Steve’s apartment, to the Mall, to the Natural History museum, was fairly normal. The only difference was the way Rogers was holding himself. His shoulders were tensed like he was ready to spring into motion at any second. Steve’s head was ducked, and his pace would quicken every few minutes before he’d stop himself and slow it down. 

In the back of The Soldier’s mind, there was a thought that this was what Steve looked like when he was on edge, when something was bothering him. The Soldier knew that he had seen it on Rogers before, in some time he couldn’t quite place ever being in.

A second later Steve stopped abruptly. The Soldier took in a breath, tensed to match Steve. Something was going on. Rogers looked like he was waiting, listening. Then in an instant, The Soldier’s old mission turned on his heels and swung back the way he came. Right towards him.  _ Shit _ . Steve had known he was being followed. The Soldier should have known, but it seemed like every time he thought of Steve Rogers, he lost his ability to think as logically as he should be. That thought was slightly jarring. The Soldier ducked into a small coffee shop with enough people in and around it to keep him hidden. Steve was stalking up the street, trenchantly sorting through all the faces swarming past him. Rogers’ eyes were roving towards the coffee shop, but The Soldier was gone before Steve’s eyes had had the chance to watch his observer back.

★★★★★

Steve was running. Throwing care to the wind, and disrupting more than a few peaceful afternoons in the process. When he had turned, he could have sworn he saw a flash of dark hair head back up the street. Steve had trailed back as calmly as possible before he saw it again, right near a coffee shop. No face could be seen on the other side of that dark wave, but he had a feeling he’d know it anywhere. The breath was starting to rush out of Steve’s lungs in rapid succession, as if he was having one of his old asthma attacks. If he was right, Bucky was following him. The thought made Steve a little giddy. But as soon as Steve had turned, Bucky was out of sight. This made Steve worry. Maybe Bucky didn’t want Steve to find him. Maybe he was afraid and confused because he thought Steve would turn him in. That put Steve even more on edge. Maybe Bucky needed to see it was safe, that it was all right to let Steve help him. 

Steve would have to follow Bucky right back. Maybe then they’d find each other. Maybe then Bucky would finally come back to him. Because, if he was being honest, the only thing that kept him going when he wasn’t sure he should was that man. The one who would’ve followed Steve anywhere, and he would’ve followed right back.

_ To the end of the line. _

Steve felt like there was an invisible thread wrapped around his heart, and it would squeeze and pull until it guided him home.


	3. Chapter 3

The Soldier nearly stumbled back to his spot in the corner of the warehouse. That had been too close. Rogers had almost found him. The Soldier couldn’t quite yet discern whether that was guaranteed to be a bad thing, but concluded that more observation would be needed in order to confirm this. More observation most likely wasn’t a wise choice either, for the time being. Rogers knew he was being followed. Still, something wasn’t right. The Soldier had recently felt the sensation of want, and every time Steve Rogers was in his line of sight, the feeling increased tenfold. This made him feel uneasy. Wrong. Like he didn't deserve to want something all the signs told him he should. The Soldier wanted…  _ something  _ from Steve Rogers. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, though. He t wasn’t even sure what he felt, what emotions were allowed to be his, if any. The Soldier was a machine, a killer.  _ Do what you’re told, wait until they come for you, do what you’re told, wait until they come for you, do what you’re- _

_ ★★★★★ _

Steve spent the night awake. If he cried he wouldn’t admit it. He was  _ so so _ close to everything he wanted and yet there was a hole brimming with a stinging burn in his chest. So close. Steve slid out of his bed, disheveled from lack of sleep, but not from lack of trying. He sidled up to the wooden table in his living room, pulling Bucky’s file towards him.  _ Bucky’s file? _ The Winter Soldier’s file. The killer, the calculating machine. Not Bucky.

_ Please not Bucky.  _

_ ★★★★★ _

**New York City, 1937**

Steve had spent the winter locked in his room trying to figure out how to breathe again. It’d been like trying to wade through hell, and even harder trying to get Bucky to quit worrying over him. The crystals of shimmering ice that had latched themselves to the windows were starting to look like Steve’s heart. He didn’t want to be weak. He didn’t want Bucky to have to work as hard as he did, to have to help him. Steve wanted Bucky to be free, to be happy, find a girl, have a few kids. Steve cringed at that thought. All of those things Bucky would do without him. The problem with that was, Steve didn’t know what his life was without Bucky. What he would be doing or what he would be.  _ It’s impossible to know what you would be without the center of your universe.  _

Steve puffed out a sigh at it all. He distantly heard the front door creak open, signaling the arrival of none other than the person Steve thought should get himself the farthest away. All of Steve’s focus was now on the sound of even footsteps on the dark wood floor. They made their way to the bedroom door and hesitantly inched it open, as if scared to wake Steve. 

“I’m awake, Bucky.” Steve sighed again, louder this time.  _ God _ , why didn’t Bucky just kick him out already? 

Bucky poked his head around the corner, already sporting his signature grin. The one he only seemed to wear for Steve. 

“Hey, Stevie. How’re you feelin’?” Bucky crooned out softly.

Steve crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. Bucky didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he’d just decided to ignore Steve’s frustration. Steve didn’t  know which option bothered him more. Bucky stepped over to the bed to put his hand up to Steve’s clammy forehead when he receives no response from the blond, but Steve slapped the hand away. Bucky frowned with those perfect, plump lips and-

“M’fine, Buck.” Steve grumbled out, trying to stop the thoughts doing a hasty Lindy Hop through his mind. 

Bucky didn’t look convinced. His lips turned down even more and his brows sloped into a crease Steve just wanted to smooth out with the pad of his thumb. Bucky gently slid onto the bed, inched over next to Steve, and set the paper bag he was carrying between them. Steve glanced down and grimaced. He knew what was in that bag. 

“What's in the bag, Buck?” Steve gestured to it with a tilt of the head. 

Bucky smiled down at Steve, all soft lines and gentle eyes. Steve wanted nothing more than to cry. To ask why this man put up with him, took care of him when he didn’t even deserve it. When it would make Bucky’s life a hell of a lot easier if Steve wasn't in it. 

“Ah I grabbed ya some more medicine on the way home. Figured you should take some more before goin’ to bed.” Bucky answered with the same lovely tilt of his lips. 

Steve wanted to cry and beg to whatever was up there that dealt these damn well terrible cards to help him out just this once. To make Bucky realize all he deserved and how he didn't need Steve. How Bucky was just too  _ goddamn nice _ for his own good. So he did. Steve clenched his jaw and bit his lip while the silent, angry tears slid down his pale cheeks. Bucky immediately noticed, of course he did the nice fucker, and moved to rest a hand hastily on Steve’s shoulder. 

“Stevie, hey what's wrong, kid?” Big nervous eyes, bigger warm hand, practically held Steve to the earth. 

Steve pushed the hand off of him, and if Bucky winced a little at the motion neither of the men noticed. Steve took a deep, rattling breath. The action still stung in his lungs, and suddenly the medicine didn't seem like such a bad idea, but Steve couldn't take it. He couldn't. 

“J-just let it go Bucky. You don't have to do this,” Steve mumbled, wished the bed would suddenly open up and eat him alive. It'd be better than losing his best friend. Even if he deserved it. 

The words just brought a deeper crease into Bucky's brow, the innocent confusion etched onto his face made Steve’s heart twist painfully.

“What do ya mean, Stevie?” Bucky pressed gently. 

Steve huffed, the tension began to coil into his shoulder blades, and slid down his back in icy currents. 

“You don't have to spend your hard earned money on me. You work all day and come home dog tired, and what do I do? I sit at home sick and weak and I can't help you, Buck. You don't have to let me slow you down,” Steve took a deep breath, waited for the fallout, for his world to drop into pieces in his lap. 

But Bucky just scooted closer, nudged Steve with a shoulder. The crooked smile told Steve he might just be wrong. That didn't mean he was going to let it go, though. 

“Steve I'm not gonna leave. You're my friend and I'm gonna help you, pal. There's nothin’ wrong with gettin’ sick sometimes,” Bucky smiled down at the smaller man. If Steve would have looked up at that moment, he might've seen the fear and worry in Bucky's eyes. 

_ He's gonna leave me. He's gonna get better and finally go in a good date with a nice girl and he's gonna leave me.  _

_ ★★★★★ _

Steve couldn't believe his luck. Sam had woken him up in the early hours of the morning to tell him there'd been a man who fit Barnes’ description caught on a security camera a few streets over from the warehouse district. Before Sam even had time to finish Steve was thanking him and hanging up the phone, already halfway out the door. Steve tugged on a jacket and flew into the late night breeze as fast as his legs could carry him. His eyes briefly flitted to his motorcycle, but going in quiet would be safer. 

The sprawling metal corpses of the rusted buildings laid out before Steve like a maze. All he had to do was find the center. He started with the ones to the left. His heart pounded through his chest and pumped into his ears with each step. He was close.  _ Close.  _ Bucky was here, somewhere, all Steve had to do was look. He wouldn't ever stop looking if that's what it took. Bucky never gave up on Steve, Steve wasn't going to give up on Bucky. 

_ I'm not gonna leave, you're my friend, and I'm gonna help you.  _

After two hours of crawling through warehouses, Steve was practically vibrating with nerves. He was on the last few on the left now, and he figured he'd try his luck with the one closer to the water. As he took the steps across the damp concrete, the air shifted, causing Steve to inhale swiftly. The feeling in the air like the prickling you get where there's a presence you weren't quite aware of. Steve took a quivering breath and took the first step inside of the tilting structure. The doorway gaped like a gasping mouth as Steve stepped through. The walls dripped with water and mildew. The floor was slick with the same things. Steve could hear his breath echo around him as he tried to steady the harsh puffs. 

Then there was a sound to his left. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do superheroes pay taxes?

The Soldier’s eyes sprung open and he was on his feet as soon a the exhale of breathe sounded out below him. The Soldier swiftly stood and crept to the edge of the room, where a hole in the floor let him see the open floor below. Before The Soldier could take another step towards the sound, the floorboards gave out under his boots. The crack reverberated down into the space, and effectively alerted  whoever was down there of The Soldier’s presence. He lept down through the hole, all the while berating himself for the thoroughly foolish mistake. 

The dark left The Soldier with a struggle to make out the features of the man stood in front of him. Tall, muscular, and moving slowly towards him. The Soldier swiped a knife from the pocket of his jeans and waited. The man’s steps, the upright, confident nature of his presence, the harsh, shallow breathing that made The Soldier’s mind snap back to a little threadbare apartment in Brooklyn. 

_ ★★★★★ _

Steve took one last step towards Bucky.  _ Bucky. _ He was standing in front of Steve, alive and-  _ he was alive _ and that was all that mattered right then. Steve tried and failed again to slow his breathing, but the puffing breaths only seemed to come harder the closer he got to Bucky. Steve took one last futile deep breath.

“Bucky?” Steve rasped out.

There was no response. Only the brief loss of the sight of the whites of Bucky’s eyes to signify blinking. 

“Buck, it’s me. It’s Steve. It’s okay- I- I know you’re probably con-” 

As soon as Bucky had arrived, he’d gone again. Steve felt the twisting in his gut as the thread around his heart unraveled again. 

“Bucky?” 

Steve was greeted with the sound of dripping water, and his own thumping heart. 

#################

The Soldier darted through a side door that was more gaping hole than door and fled into the hazy early morning light. Steve had found him. The Soldier had left Steve there. He couldn’t go back to the warehouse, Steve might be waiting for him. The Soldier needed a new place to hide. That wasn’t at the front of his mind, though. The thought beginning to eat away at the cold unyielding metal in his head was a question. Why was The Soldier worried about staying here? He could leave, go anywhere in the world and make sure he was never found. The Soldier didn’t want to. He was close here. Close to something that made him feel a little more whole. Something that pulled on the thread wrapped around him, that wanted to lead him home. 

_ Home.  _

_ ★★★★★ _

**New York City, 1937**

The winter that Bucky Barnes had promised he wouldn’t leave Steve Rogers, was the year he almost lost him. The medicine helped, but it had to run out eventually, and their money could only stretch so far. Steve refused a hospital, reasoned that if they couldn’t afford medicine, they couldn’t send him to a hospital. Bucky didn’t want to agree, but he knew Steve was right. So Steve Rogers lay in bed, day after day, and Bucky Barnes did everything he could to help, and cushioned the blow when he cried himself to sleep. Steve knew he did, but would never ask about it. Would only try to take deeper breaths and silently promise the back facing him that he’d make it. 

Steve didn’t know if he was lying. 

The fever got worse, and so did Bucky’s control. He never cried in front of Steve, but he’d disappear into the bathroom a little more often. By the time December began to end, Steve hadn’t gotten much better. They’d managed to scrape together for another bottle of medicine, but that one had run out too. At night, the fevered coughs wracked Steve’s small body. He hadn’t been able to keep any food down in days. His skin was always sweaty and covered in a ghostly pale shade. They both knew Steve couldn’t keep it up much longer. 

Steve held on just out of the pure spite that whatever was up there was trying to take him away from Bucky. The only thing Bucky was holding on to was Steve. So one night, when the fever raged in the ailing man, and the coughs stung like cuts, Bucky did the only thing he could do. He got on his knees and begged. He grabbed that clammy, skeletal hand in his own and let the tears fall, just once. 

“Please, Stevie, you gotta stay alright? I need you here.” Steve looked down to see the tears raining down that perfect face and all he wanted to do was kiss them away and apologize for causing them until they did. 

Steve didn’t stop himself from thinking about how much he wanted Bucky anymore. If he was going to die, at least he could die in love. Maybe right before he went he’d tell Bucky. Tell him how Steve loved the little crease between his brows when he was confused or thinking. How Steve wanted to trace those perfect red lips under his thumb and then draw them until he forgot his own name. How the curve of Bucky’s jaw made Steve feel all kinds of twisted up inside, made his breath catch. He wouldn’t say it now, couldn’t. 

“Buck-” Steve rasped out.

“Please. Just- you gotta stay with me, Steve.” Bucky cut him off.

Steve could feel the tears running down his own sallow cheeks at the broken pleas coming from the man next to him. Steve tried for a watery little smile before nodding. 

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, Bucky. I promise.” Steve soothed, took a chance to rub the thumb of his free hand across Bucky’s cheek. 

Bucky nodded with a tiny smile of his own before gently pulling Steve into the softest hug he’d ever felt. Bucky pulled back and just stared into the smaller man’s eyes for a moment before leaning in a little and whispering, 

“We’re gonna get through this, Stevie. You’re gonna be fine.”

Steve nodded. He wasn’t sure if that promise was more for himself or Bucky. Bucky pulled back far enough to look at Steve again, those big blue eyes making Steve want to shiver at how exposed he felt, like those eyes could read him inside and out. Steve thought he saw Bucky’s eyes flicker down to his lips, but Steve was feverish after all. Bucky cocked his head, the crease appearing between his brows and his lips pulling down on the sides. He looked at Steve one more time. Steve looked back. There was a tension pulling between them. An undeniable line that tied them closer. Steve took a breath, Bucky mirrored it, the tears still not quite dry in his eyes. Steve just wanted to lean up and close the distance between them. 

“You’re all I got.”

Bucky did it for him.

“Buck you’re gonna get-” Steve’s worry was cut off by a gentle press of warm lips.

Steve’s heart kicked into gear as Bucky’s soft hands cupped his face. The kiss was warmth and safety and a million promises they’d both do anything to keep. The invisible thread finished wrapping them together and tied them up with a bow. Steve could feel his heart hammering away at his ribs, while the kiss deepened when they both pressed for more. After another moment, they pulled away, Steve taking a deep inhale to steady himself, causing Bucky to panic. 

“Steve, hey I’m sorry are you-”

“Shut up, Buck I’m fine.” Steve rolled his eyes with a smile.

Bucky couldn’t help but think that even when Steve was sick, he was beautiful. 

“I- was that okay?” Bucky asked, glancing up through his lashes.

“Of course it was, dummy,” Steve laughed. “But you’re gonna get sick.” He added.

“I’ll be fine long as I got you, kid.” Bucky smiled.

“Sap.” 

“Only for you.” 

Steve rolled his eyes again.. Bucky sighed and rested his forehead softly against Steve’s

“I couldn’t lie to you anymore, Stevie. Even- even if you hated me I just needed you to know.” Bucky whispered, his warm breath dancing off Steve’s lips. 

“I’m never gonna hate you, Buck. I just never thought you’d do that.  _ God _ you have no idea how long I’ve wanted it,” Steve confesses, laughing a little as he blushed a pretty shade of petal pink that made Bucky grin.

“I was hopin’ you’d say that.” 

★★★★★

The Soldier stopped dead in his tracks. He’d  _ remembered that _ . It was real, it had happened, right? Bucky and Steve had been- something. The Soldier was supposed to be Bucky, but he wasn’t. He didn’t know where Bucky was, or how to find him. The Soldier concluded it may be time to ask for help. Steve wanted to see him, wanted to _ help  _ him. But he thought The Soldier was still Bucky. What id he let Steve down and Steve turned him in? Would Rogers do that?  The Soldier began a stilted trot down the slick pavement, trying to shake off the downpour of doubts sloshing in his head. He needed to ask for help, whether or not it worked. 


	5. Chapter 5

Steve let his back thump against the wall, before he slid down it, not caring about the grime that now coated his jacket. He’d found Bucky. And then lost him. Steve guessed Bucky wouldn’t come back here now that he’d been found, but maybe he would. If Steve was right, Bucky had tailed him around D.C at least twice. Maybe that meant something. He took one last deep breath, set his head in his hands for a moment before he stood . The gaping mouth of a door seemed to smirk at him as he left through it. 

_ You’ll never get him to stay.  _

Steve huffed and began the walk home. The city lights winked at him as he passed, waved and danced around his head. He wished he could share this life with the only person he seemed worried about anymore. 

The morning light crept over the buildings as Steve Rogers climbed the steps to his little apartment. He pushed open the door and sulked into his bedroom. Time for another plan, he guessed. 

★★★★★

The Soldier found another place to hide out for the day. He’d find Rogers under the cover of night, if he went out now he’d surely be noticed sneaking into Rogers’ building again. The memories circled his brain every time he closed his eyes. He and Rogers- they’d been in  _ love _ . No, not The Soldier. The Soldier didn’t know what love felt like. It was a secondhand emotion that made you weak, unable to complete your missions. But Bucky, he knew what love felt like. If The Soldier was Bucky, maybe deep down The Soldier once knew the feeling. But not now. Not anymore. All that was left in place of love was a tugging in his chest, pulling him towards Rogers. But that wasn’t love. That was the need to know. To know who The Soldier might have been if the story had gone the right way. To figure out what to do next, where to go. So he sat and waited. This time he knew what he was waiting for. 

★★★★★

Steve had thrown himself onto the couch, and back into his head. His mind circled how close he’d been, how close  _ Bucky _ had been. He was half asleep when the doorbell rang. Steve shot up and peered at the door. It couldn’t be Sam, he was at the VA today and Steve hadn’t told him about Bucky yet. Natasha wouldn’t knock. Steve crept off the couch and towards the door, grabbing his shield from next to the couch on the way. The peephole revealed nothing, causing a tension to twist into Steve’s stomach. He lifted the shield and waited a breath before throwing open the door. Nothing. Just like before.

“Steve.” A voice croaked from his right, effectively startling him, shield raised higher.

Steve turned, lowered the shield slightly to see over the edge. All the air left his lungs in a sharp rush at the sight the action revealed. 

“Bucky.”

Steve took a tentative step forwards, causing Bucky to react with an almost imperceptible flinch. Steve stopped dead in his tracks, waited for a verbal reaction from the man stood in front of him. Steve almost winced when he looked into the ice blue eyes trained on his face. The ice was melting, tears welling up, prepared to rain down on a face that should belong to a ghost. Steve frowned, brows pulled together while he tried to stop himself from reaching out to touch the face that looked like it was falling to pieces in front of him. 

The tension in the air swelled and rolled as Steve waited for Bucky to say something,  _ anything,  _ to just tell Steve what he needed, and Steve would do it. He would do anything. 

_ Anything.  _

Bucky opened his mouth then, and three words Steve wasn’t quite sure how to fix left Bucky’s throat.

“Who am I?” 

★★★★★

The question trembled off The Soldier’s tongue, settled into the air with a resounding feeling of loss. Steve looked to The Soldier as if he was in a great deal of pain, the grimace twisted his features in such a way that made The Soldier want to smooth them back down again. Or maybe he just wanted to touch Rogers. His eyes widened at the thought, and he tamped it down for a later time, if ever. Steve swallowed roughly and looked to The Soldier again.

“Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. You’re my best friend, and if you’ll let me, I want to help you.” 

Steve said these things like they were facts. Like The Soldier was Bucky and Steve knew him. Steve didn’t know The Soldier, and Steve had said he and Bucky were  _ friends. _ That isn’t what The Soldier remembered, but he couldn’t really trust his mind, so maybe he was mistaken. Maybe what his mind had showed him was really just a dream, a projection of everything he was missing in the stolen years of his life. The Soldier knew he hadn’t always been this way, but maybe who he used to be wasn’t what he thought it was. The Soldier nodded to Rogers, a quick, stiff agreement. 

“Please.” 

The broken nature of his voice betrayed the caution of his actions. Steve nodded back with a soft smile, his eyes showed his relief. 

“You wanna come in?” Steve nodded towards the open doorway behind him.

The Soldier tries to return the smile, but all that comes is a small twist of his lips. A start. Steve leads The Soldier into his apartment.

_ His home. _

★★★★★

Bucky was in his apartment. Bucky was here and he wasn’t running away and Steve was going to get him to stay. 

“Are you hungry?” He figured he could start there.

Bucky just stared, and another piece of Steve’s heart crashed to the floor. 

“You’re allowed to want things, Buck. No one is going to stop you.” 

Bucky seemed to ponder that for a moment before nodding.

“Yes.” Bucky mumbled.

Steve smiled, and went to make sandwiches, realizing asking Bucky what he wanted to eat might be too much at the moment. When the plate of turkey and cheese sandwiches was placed quietly in front of Bucky, there was no reaction. No movement to take one or any confirmation that they were all right. Just another stare.

“You can take them. As many as you want.” Steve urged. 

Bucky glanced between Steve and the food before reaching out for the plate. Steve nodded in affirmation and pushed the plate towards Bucky. Before Steve had the chance to urge any further, his phone rang. Bucky jumped, snatching his hand back from the food. Steve’s eyes darted to his bedroom, which was down the hall. The trip there would leave Bucky out of his sight. He sighed lightly before he turned to walk away from the counter.

“It’s just my phone, it’s all right, Buck. I’ll be right back.” Steve assured. 

He did not want to go, but he figured it was probably Sam checking on him, and when Steve didn’t answer, Sam came over. Steve didn’t think Bucky was ready for any more human interaction than he already had at the moment. Steve turned to peek at Bucky one more time before he headed to his room. He grabbed his phone just in time. Sam, just like he though. 

“Hey, pal how’s it going?” Sam’s jovial voice rang through the speakers. 

Steve frowned, bit his lip. If he told Sam about Bucky, would he help or tell Steve to let him go? The last thing Steve was going to do was let go. Steve was going to sort through every trouble Bucky had with his bare hands and no one was going to get in his way, as much as he cared about them. Steve shook his head and chose to keep Bucky a secret for now.

“It’s all right, nothing new.” Steve did his best to sound tired, maybe a little hopeless, just to mask the sparks that bounced off every part of his insides. 

“You will find him, you gotta believe that, Rogers.” Sam said. 

“I know, I know, I just- I don’t know how to fix any of this, Sam.” That was the truth. 

“I know it feels like the end of the line here, but you’ll find him if it’s really meant to happen, Steve.” Sam’s soft, reassuring voice filtered through the phone. 

Steve sighed softly. Sam’s advice still helped mend the sparking nerves, even if he didn’t really need it. 

“Thanks. Sam."

“Any time, Captain. Take care of yourself, all right?” 

“Yeah, yeah I will.” Steve smiled softly.

He said his goodbyes and hung up, Steve tucked his phone into his pocket and shuffled back to the kitchen, prayed the whole walk down the hall that there would still be a man in his kitchen. When he arrived, the only thing gone were the sandwiches. Steve smiled big at that, all slow and golden. Bucky noticed Steve staring and averted his eyes quickly, wrung his hands in his lap. Steve’s smile dropped at that, and he stepped forward to address Bucky again. He swallowed thickly and prepared himself to ask the next question. Steve had a million and one questions racing around the track of his brain, but only one seemed to matter in that moment. The one he didn’t know if he wanted the answer to. 

“Do you- do you think you want to stay?” Steve asked on a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. 

Bucky looked confused, then suspicious, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to answer that. This only made Steve’s chest clench even more, his brows pulled in to crease in the middle.

“You’re allowed to answer that, Buck. You can want things, ask for things. No one is going to stop you anymore. Or ever again.” Steve promised. He meant it with everything he had.

Bucky looked up, wide eyed and questioning, eyes shined bright like stars.

“You mean that?” He asked quietly. 

Steve grinned, stars for stars. 

“Always. I promise.” 

Bucky looked down at his lap again, pensive and careful. The breath he took pushed up his shoulders and seemed to settle his thoughts. A small, sure nod accompanied his answer.

“Okay.” 

Steve’s eyes widened, while his grin grew to block out the sun, the brightest star they knew. 

“You’ll stay, Buck?” He asked, enthusiasm leaked out through every syllable. 

Bucky nodded and looked up briefly to meet Steve’s eyes. Something akin to a smile wrapped itself in Bucky’s lips, but was lost a soon as it was found. Steve pondered where to start, and figured the simplest option was best. He checked the time on his phone and figured they had a few hours. 

“You’re gonna need some new clothes.” Steve said, sure of himself for once in this whole mess.

Steve decidedly enjoyed the laid back style of the new century, and was a fan of jeans and  warm sweaters. He figured dressing Bucky wouldn’t be terribly difficult, seeing as he could most of the time dress himself with minimal difficulty. 

★★★★★

The Soldier looked alarmed again, before he nodded, agreed to this strange plan. All his life, from Brooklyn to Hydra, new things had been few and far between, especially clothing.He remembered that much. This was new, and strange and felt… all right. Something warm and not unwelcome spread across the cracks and fissures in his chest. Steve wanted to help him. The Soldier would let him. Maybe… since Steve seemed so open, so alive, maybe he’d tell The Soldier what he wanted to know. Or maybe Steve wanted Bucky and this whole thing was a ticking bomb that waited to drop them back into dust and decay. 

★★★★★

Once they’d snuck into public and gotten what Steve thought was an adequate amount of clothes and shoes, and what Bucky thought was excessive, they returned home.  _ Home _ . A new word, settled in for the winter with a new meaning. Steve dropped the bags in the living room, while Bucky trailed in behind with his own. It was then that Steve had a realization. He lived in a one bedroom apartment. One bedroom, one bed, two people. Steve tensed while he thought about how to phrase it without spooking the man who currently had him pinned under a stare, waiting for Steve to react. 

Steve cleared his throat. “Uh, Buck I only have- one bed, so if you want, I’ll take the couch-”

Bucky shook his head. “No. Take the bed.” 

Steve frowned a little, argued gently."Are you sure? You can have it.” 

Bucky shook his head, small smile freshly reappeared. It somehow started to look like it fit there, like it was real. Steve nodded an affirmation, and went to put Bucky’s things in the closet, called out over his shoulder.

“Shower’s through that door, you can take one before bed if you want.” 

★★★★★

The Soldier stepped into the shower and under the warm and steaming water, let it ease his muscles and slow his thoughts. It had taken him a few tries to figure out how to use the shower, and another few minutes to figure out exactly what shampoo and conditioner were for. The Soldier let his mind wander, and found himself driven to another memory of hot water and cold lips trailed on his skin. Someone small and frail held on for dear life as beautiful little wrecked sounds tripped out on an otherwise occupied tongue. The Soldier shivered, suddenly aching for something he didn’t know he could want. Something he was told was useless as long as he could remember. The Soldier felt a spike of want edge itself between his ribs and jumped, causing him to hit his elbow off the faucet, which turned the water to an icy shrapnel. The Soldier froze, let the cold grapple with his newfound warmth. The cold won, and the small sliver of light sucked out of his eyes. 

_ He was in the box. The frigid metal room that filled with every type of pain he’d ever known. They’d dragged his limp, cold body to the cage where they shackled his wrists and feet to the bars, locking him in place. The Soldier had not completed his mission in time. He had been slow, not as efficient as he was bred to achieve. This called for a re-education. A punishment for breaking the rules, even if the kill was successful. The hands came closer, an industrial hose to wash his mistakes clean. The water so chilled it burned and left scoring lines down his back and sides. His screams drowned out by the shooting water and humming of the machine the hose extended from. He would never feel warm again. He would never make another mistake, until the next one, because that was what humans did. Humans were not perfect killing machines. Humans were bred from trial and error, from mistakes and bargaining and problem solving. Not perfect, cold, efficiency. The Soldier, The Asset, was still human.   _

The Soldier did not know how long he stood under the water. When he came to, his body was wracked with shivers and felt empty, wrong even though he’d known it longer than the warmth. He nudged the faucet off and stepped out of the shower. He’d made a mistake, he had wanted. His punishment was well deserved. The Soldier dried off and slipped into the clothes that had been provided for him. When he finally slunk out of the bathroom, he was met with Steve, who waited for him on the couch. He quickly stood at The Soldier’s presence and seemed to notice right away something wasn’t right. 

“Is everything okay, Bucky?” Steve questioned. 

The Soldier did not respond. That was not his name, his identity. Rogers looked on, worried or confused The Soldier could not deduce. He was already too far away. 

Steve stepped around the couch and towards The Soldier, and The Soldier made no move to respond. The blond man frowned before he started to reach out, and then abruptly stopped himself. Space. The Soldier would be back, but he was hiding away where the cold didn’t sting quite as much. 

“Goodnight, Buck.” Rogers looked hesitant to leave him, but when he was granted no response, took his leave.

When Rogers rounded the corner, The Soldier sat, and waited. When slow, steady breath signified the other man in the apartment was asleep, The Soldier smoothly slipped out the window.


	6. Chapter 6

When Steve Rogers woke up the next morning there was a knife under his pillow, and Bucky Barnes was asleep in his bathtub. In fact, after the absolute fucking heart attack of finding someone in his bathroom, Steve realized not only was there a knife under his pillow, but there were knives everywhere. Under couch cushions, slid into cabinets, taped behind the refrigerator. Steve’s utter confusion turned to relief and then something softer and warmer when he realized Bucky had done it to feel safe.That Bucky had stayed. The warm feeling turned to something akin to dread when Rogers realized how badly he had to pee. 

★★★★★

The Soldier jolted awake to the smell of cooking food and slices of sunlight that danced in his eyes. His stomach growled at the smell, and The Soldier immediately recoiled. There he went,  _ wanting  _ things again. The Soldier had believed Rogers, had  _ wanted _ to believe when he’d said The Soldier was allowed to want. But want let to danger and loss and more problems and, and, and. It was wrong, unnatural for something that should have been a machine. The Soldier’s stomach growled again, and caused him to creep out of the bathroom, and towards the kitchen. The open living room and kitchen sprawled into view and Rogers came with it, hunched over the stove. The Soldier watched and waited for the inevitable recognition of his presence. Until then, he leaned against the wall, taking the time to really look at the man he seemed to want so much from. 

The molten morning light flashed off of Steve’s eyes and hair, and formed a kaleidoscope of golds to halo the angelic face underneath. The Soldier smiled, took in the warmth that radiated from the man. The first genuine smile The Soldier had produced since he was born from ashes and blood. Since he was Bucky Barnes. The astonishment that all it took to make him  _ feel _ was a bronze hero and a little sunlight nearly knocked him backwards. The Soldier shuffled and shifted his weight, making Steve turn to him. The sunlight wasn’t just coming from outside, it was written all over the man’s face. Like he was happy The Soldier was there. Maybe he was, or maybe Steve Rogers still thought The Soldier was a whole person. Who he was looking for. 

“You hungry?” 

★★★★★

The Soldier and Steve Rogers existed in orbit. Their string pushing, pulling, and winding. Colored with struggle and progress. It tooks weeks to get Bucky to eat of his own accord. Another two weeks to let Steve finally breathe in the cool, woodsy scent of the man he hadn’t felt in a lifetime. Their first hug since their lives had begun again. 

The Soldier struggled to let Rogers help him. Every night was a new struggle matched with a small version of a punishment he felt he truly deserved. No wanting, no feeling, but when Steve Rogers pulled him into those arms and let him breath in a scent that could only be described  as _home_ , The Soldier thought something he never thought he would.

_ Bucky. _

Maybe, just maybe, the smallest speck of that man, that other half to Steve Rogers was in there. Something that tugged in the farthest reaches of his heart told The Soldier it was true. So he  tried to sleep on the couch, even if it never worked. He never let the water get too cold, and he always ate what Steve gave him. The Solder learned to brush his hair and wonder if that was what it felt like to be human. To do simple things, to forget who someone else wanted you to be. The Soldier learned to smile, and sit on the fire escape while Steve sketched the sunset. The Soldier always remained silent to the images flooding his head, the silent kisses and sunset stained eyes. The Soldier would never tell Steve Rogers what he remembered. He wasn’t the same, love wasn’t in his body. Maybe trust, maybe the ability to care about something, but never love. 

★★★★★

The Soldier had lived with Rogers for almost two months when a knock rang out at the door. No one ever came the the apartment. Steve went out occasionally, for a few hours at a time, but was always home before dark. The Soldier tensed, readied himself for a threat, a trap. The blond perched on the chair across from him popped a head up to peer across the room to the door. Steve slowly got up, headed to open it. On the way over, he nodded at The Soldier, motioning for him to head to the bedroom before he answered the door. The Soldier backed down the hall, but kept his eyes on the door as long as he could. The sound of the door as it swung open kept The Soldier focused, ready for flight. The he heard Rogers laugh, a curious,  _ attractive _ sound. 

★★★★★

“Sam, Nat,” Steve sighed as relief washed over his skin. “I didn’t know it was you.”

Sam chuckled while Nat gave Steve a catlike smirk. 

“How are you, Rogers?” Nat questioned kindly. 

Steve smiled back, a small, unconvincing thing.

“I’m good.” 

Natasha and Sam both shot him the “look”. The look that said they knew everything Steve said was bullshit. Those two were terrifying together when they wanted to be. 

Natasha looked him right in the eyes with her piercing stare that always seemed to say “Tell me everything.” 

“What happened, Steve?” She asked. More like demanded, but it was so calm and inquisitive Steve almost came right out and told her.

“Nothing, nothing, I'm just...tired.” It was a shit excuse and Steve knew it. The only people here that were tired here were Sam and Nat of Steve’s excuses.

Sam shifted his weight and crossed his arms. 

“Whatever is goin’ on, you can tell us, you know that. I think by now you should know you can trust us, man.” 

Steve nodded, resolve fading for once. They were right, they wouldn’t turn him in or tell him it was wrong. Hell, Sam helped him look for Bucky. 

“All right. Just, stay here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Natasha and Sam shared a look as Steve turned, walking down the hallway and praying he wasn’t about to do something monumentally stupid. He toed the bedroom door open to find Bucky pressed against the wall next to it, looking about as apprehensive as a six foot tall supersoldier could. Steve put a hand on his shoulder, they were doing that now, and leaned towards him. 

“Hey, everything is fine. I want you to meet some friends of mine.” He spoke softly, like snow in the early morning, still untouched and clean.

The Soldier wanted to give Steve Rogers what he wanted. Wanted to make him happy after everything he’s given for The Soldier to be there, be safe. So he nodded, and moved when Steve did, unknowingly synchronized like nothing had changed and like they were supposed to be. 

Steve rounded the corner, Bucky in tow. Bucky kept his head down, eyes fixed on the floor. One glance and he remembered. He knew these people. He had tried to kill them. 

The room was filled with a heavy kind of silence, the kind that blankets all the questions tugging at you while you decide which one to ask first. 

Sam beat them all to it.

“Man, what the fuck?” Natasha snorted softly. “We’ve been lookin’ for him for months, Steve and then all of a sudden you stop being all obsessed and shit, but it was only ‘cause you found him, and didn’t fucking tell anyone. Anyone being me, jackass.”

Sam’s normal eloquence and calm nature was knocked out by his annoyance at Steve’s lie. Natasha’s rant died on her tongue as she held it to keep the laughter at bay. Steve turned as red as his embarrassment showed. He stole a glance at Bucky, whose eyes remained superglued to one spot on the floor. The Soldier knew all eyes were on him, from Steve’s worried gaze to the red haired woman’s narrowed eyes. He felt scrutinized, observed like the experiment he knew he was. 

Natasha was the first to address him directly.

“Sergeant Barnes?” 

The Soldier looked up, met her eyes. The use of his name tugged sharply at him. That was  _ him. _ That was who everyone thought he was. The Soldier still didn’t feel like a man worthy of the trust that a name brought. The trust that you were you, and would always be.

Natasha tried again. 

“ Vam nechego boyat'sya.” 

The Soldier hadn’t heard that language in months. His thoughts were in english again, and Steve never addressed him in anything else. But this woman, she understood something, and The Soldier felt compelled to give her something back. 

“YA khochu dumat', chto ty prav.” The Soldier said back, clear and honest. These people may not hurt him, but that didn’t mean nothing would. That did not mean he wouldn’t hurt them, even if he didn’t mean to.    


The red haired woman, whom he now knew was Natasha, gave him a smile with her petal pink lips. The two other men in the room watched with a curious fascination as another tiny piece of Bucky opened up. The Soldier felt it, the trust. Maybe one day he could trust this woman after he learned to trust Steve. Steve came first, The Soldier knew Steve would always come first. 

Natasha turned her smile to Steve, a silent promise she’d make sure everything stayed the same for them. A much needed friend to them both. Sam rolled his eyes and then patted Steve on the back.

“I'm glad you found what you were looking for.” 

Steve had a feeling Sam knew something that Steve had never told him, and it was okay. None of his friends were leaving. Steve smiled big, shifted to stand a little closer to Bucky, who was stood with his hands in the pockets of his gray sweatpants, but his eyes were on the people around him, active in the communication. 

Natasha nudged Sam with her elbow, cocking her head towards the door. Sam gave her a nod and turned back. 

“We’ll get outta your hair, and your secret is safe, but like, fuck you for not telling me.”

Sam pursed his lips while Steve, Nat, and Bucky tried not to laugh. Steve noticed out of the corner of his eye and had to hold back the huge grin that wanted to break out, lest Sam think he was being mocked. 

“Thank you both.” Steve let the smile out as they shuffled towards the door. 

Nat and Sam both gave him a nod, Natasha letting her hand fall to his arm for a moment as she passed through the doorway. As the door swung closed behind them, Steve turned to Bucky. 

“You can trust them, I promise you that.” 

The Soldier wanted to believe him. 

★★★★★

The Soldier spent the next weeks of his life learning to trust. Natasha brought him knives and cooked for him, Sam gave him books and advice he didn’t ask for but always needed. Steve mixed in between the two, filling the gap in The Soldier, and after another month The Soldier always answered to Bucky and believed he may have learned what trust felt like. He spoke more, and took Sam’s advice to go outside, even if just for a walk in a park, Steve always to his right. His progress did not come without doubt, though. His metal arm was always covered, his head always down when someone passed. Steve noticed but never pushed, only stubborn when it wouldn’t hurt. The Soldier learned to trust this too, and to ask questions. Steve always answered honestly, The Soldier could trust that, too. 

“What was B- I like, back then?” 

“You were brave, and whip smart, kind, and loud. Definitely loud.” Steve laughed as he dodged a pillow thrown by The Soldier, who then settled into a pensive silence.

★★★★★

“Did Howard Stark ever get that car to fly?” Asked as he leaned into the refrigerator to pull out an apple. 

“I have no idea, Buck. I never thought to look it up.”

“Look it up where?” The Soldier had heard about the internet, seen Steve and Nat and Sam use their cell phones, but he still had no idea as to what it did. 

“The internet, Buck.” 

Steve passed his phone over the table, explaining what to do and how to Google things. The Soldier looked on, confused and full of new and complicated information. 

Steve clued in to Bucky’s obvious bewilderment and chuckled. 

“We’ll get you a phone of your own to mess with.” 

That idea scared Bucky more than Natasha did. 

★★★★★

“What floor was our old apartment on?” 

“Third floor.”  As they carried groceries to the stairs of Steve’s building. The Soldier didn’t like enclosed spaces, and a large, moving metal elevator was not a good place to start.

★★★★★

“Did I have three sisters?” While trying not to accidentally crush his new phone as he pulled up Google on his own for the first time. 

“You did.” Through a proud smile.

★★★★★

“Did we used to sleep in the same bed?” While drying dishes.

The dish Steve was holding clattered to the floor. He scrambled to pick it up and clear his throat before giving a reply. 

“Yeah, yeah we did, Buck.” 

The Soldier didn’t ask why, he had a feeling they both knew what was being so innocently hinted at, if Rogers’ pretty blush was anything to go by. 

The Soldier softly cracked a smile, breached his promise to himself, just a little, not caring if a hundred alarms were blaring in his skull.

“Why don’t we do that now?” Before adding, “It  _ is  _ almost winter.” with a blush of his own. 

★★★★★

Steve choked on his breath a little, before he passed it off as clearing his throat. 

Bucky was asking… what was Bucky asking? To sleep in his bed? Bucky had stopped sleeping in the bathtub about two weeks ago, not that Steve had been counting, or anything. Although, Bucky had his days where he'd disappear and Steve would find him asleep there, he never stayed overnight. 

But was Bucky asking to move from the couch, which Steve still felt guilty about, to the bed? With Steve? Bucky did have a point it was getting colder, so, maybe it wasn't a bad idea? That didn't make Steve any less terrified that he'd somehow mess it all up and make Bucky uncomfortable somehow. 

“Uh- do you want to?” Steve choked out. 

Bucky smirked, a tiny thing that spends most of its time hidden in Steve’s memory. 

“If it’s all right with you.” Bucky seems to lose ground on the confidence he’d been gaining, suddenly unsure and careful. 

Steve gave Bucky’s flesh shoulder a light tap with his own, “It’s fine, Buck.” 

Bucky nodded, and proceeded the take the dish Steve realized he was still holding to swipe over it with the drying cloth. The two men settled into a comfortable silence and brought their focus back to the task at hand. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian translations: Vam nechego boyat'sya- You have nothing to fear
> 
> YA khochu dumat', chto ty prav- I want to believe that you are right


	7. Chapter 7

“You can take whichever side you want.” Steve prompted, as he watched Bucky as threw his pillow on the right side, the side closest to the door. 

Steve grabbed his clothes for after his shower and left Bucky in the bedroom with a small smile. This was progress. Trust. Bucky had come a long way in the past few months and it made Steve’s heart do backflips and high dives and all kinds of things to knock his breath away. But his heart still clenched when he looked at that face and all the memories came back like they had happened yesterday. 

Steve didn’t want to bring it up until Bucky did, if he ever remembered or wanted to. Steve didn’t push it, even if the way Bucky’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled shot a hole through Steve. Or the way he would tap his foot when stressed or anxious matched the beating of Steve’s heart, which would only ever belong to the man in his bed. If Bucky was only ever in his bed to sleep, Steve could handle it, could handle things not quite being the same ever again, as long as Barnes was safe. As he thought of Barnes in his bed, Steve started to think his shower was going to have to become a cold one. 

★★★★★

The Soldier had decided something, while he looked around Steve’s bedroom. The room was simple, painted a light shade of grey, with a bookshelf and a dresser. Clean and simple, telling of a person who didn’t usually spend much time there. A simple room for a simple decision. He was going to trust Rogers. His body wanted to reject the idea and move on, but The Soldier was obstinate. Steve had never given him a reason to feel unsafe or afraid. The Soldier could trust Steve Rogers, and Steve could trust The Soldier to stay. The Soldier didn't know how much that was worth, but it had to start somewhere. 

The Soldier stretched out on the plush bed and closed his eyes, listened to the faint sound of the water as it hit the shower floor. He closed his eyes and let his breathing slow. Safety and calm wrapped him up with the smell of Steve’s sheets. He melted into the serene atmosphere and the squeak of water being shut off sounded in the next room. The Soldier let himself doze, knew he was safe, protected. He only cracked open an eye as Steve padded across the carpet to his side of the bed. The Soldier couldn't help but notice the way Steve's black sweatpants hung from his hips under his thin shirt. The Soldier hid his tiny smile in the crook of his flesh arm. 

Steve slid into the bed next to The Soldier and passed him a warm smile before he clicked the light off with a quiet wish of goodnight. The Soldier answered with a whisper of his own and closed his eyes once more. The Soldier’s breathing finally evened out to the sound of Rogers’ doing the same, a shared melody of soft, low notes. 

The next morning as the bacon sizzled and the toast was burned, Sam stopped by with muffins and coffee. The Soldier didn't know what “Starbucks” was, but the creamy sweet mixture Sam had handed him was brilliant. As The Soldier sipped his drink, Sam grabbed a stool and sat across from Steve, who was dutifully monitoring the bacon, having already given up on the toast. 

Sam chatted to The Soldier, who didn't give much in the way of responses but still listened attentively. Sam radiated a certain air of understanding, like he could be told anything and still know what to do. The Soldier was drawn to it, wanting to tell Sam everything, the same way he wanted to tell Steve. He couldn't though, couldn't bring himself to say those words, visit those memories. 

As Steve dished out the bacon and muffins, which turned out to be blueberry, and also brilliant, Sam turned to The Soldier once more. 

“Hey Bucky, you ever think about trying a hobby or something? There's a ton of stuff you could try just for fun,” Sam said and shrugged with one shoulder. 

The Soldier finished chewing his bite of muffin while he mulled it over. He didn't do anything for fun. There was the occasional walk and all the new movies were good. The Soldier wasn't sure about modern music, though. But a hobby could be good, could be progress. So The Soldier nodded, wondered what Bucky had enjoyed when he was alive. 

Sam gave an enthusiastic little nod of his head and threw out ideas. 

“You could try painting, I’m sure Steve could help with that, or knitting or gardening. There's also-”

“That one.” The Soldier cut in. 

“Gardening?” Sam questioned. 

The Soldier nodded. Gardening. Keeping something alive with his own two hands, taking care of something. A stark contrast from the past years of his life. A step in the right direction. Sam started on another excited tangent about all the plants he could grow while Steve looked on, a tiny dazed smiles flitted across his lips. 

After breakfast Sam and Steve chatted in the kitchen while The Soldier curled up on the oversized window sill across from the couch. The sun glinted off the buildings and into the room, and warmed The Soldier’s skin all the way down into his bones. He slipped his eyes shut and tilted his head back, took it all in. Distantly, he heard the door shut as Sam gave his goodbyes and left the apartment. The Soldier felt eyes on him and gave a guess as to who they belonged to. He slid one eye half open and watched as Steve tried to hide his blush, embarrassed at being caught. The Soldier pulled his mouth up into a neat little smirk, closing his eye once more. 

It went on like that, day after day. Little stolen moments where one would watch the other. Eventually it moved to little touches, a hand slid across shoulder blades, fingers trailed over the soft skin pulled over knuckles. Touch was a sensation The Soldier had yet to master. Trust was easier. No contact, nowhere to push too hard or make anyone afraid. The little touches Steve granted him triggered sparks under his skin, made him nervous, but ultimately wanting so much more. That scared The Soldier too. Wanting more. Wanting something he didn't think he deserved, something Steve probably didn't even want to give a monster like him.

★★★★★

Steve picked a warm, still day to take Bucky to the little greenhouse a few miles away to pick his plants. As they wandered through the maze of greens and pink and yellows, the sun sparkled off the windows and lit up Bucky's eyes like the rain on a summer afternoon. Bucky's fingers trailed along various plants until he found one he liked. A small spider plant, obviously the tiniest of the options, already looking halfway to death. Bucky picked it up gingerly and cradled it to his chest, threw Steve a small nod at his questioning look. 

Steve smiled, watching Bucky pick another. This time a slightly bigger cluster of marigolds. Bucky fingered the tiny gold and red petals, gentle as ever. He tucked the marigolds under his other arm and strolled under Steve’s gaze. As Bucky went over the other flowers, Steve quietly picked up a watering can and the few other small things he knew they’d need thanks to Google. When Bucky caught his eye, third plant in hand, the two men shared a little grin, all excitement and peace at the same time. 

After the plants were brought home wrapped in Bucky’s arms and set down on the windowsill with the most light, Steve and Bucky decided to eat. To Steve’s surprise Bucky insisted on cooking dinner. After Steve was shooed out of the kitchen, he strolled to his bedroom, fingers trailing the white walls in the hall. Steve stepped into his room,  shut the door a little behind him and made the journey to his side of the bed. 

He leaned down and pulled the little drawer open before he slid out a photograph. James Buchanan Barnes, newest sergeant of the one hundred and seventh. All shiny smiles and proud eyes. Still new and alive, no pain or unspeakable memories in sight. The thought stung a little, the realization that things could have been different if they’d lived in a different time, or if Steve hadn’t been so damned selfish. Hadn’t asked Bucky to come with him, had made him stay where it was safe, where Steve could bring him home. Steve swept his thumb across that face, a thousand years younger than they felt now. Steve closed his eyes and prayed. Prayed to whatever was out there these days for forgiveness. Apologized on every Saint he could think of and cried to God that he’d protect Bucky Barnes until his dying breath, because anything less than that was unacceptable. 

“Steve.”    


Steve snapped the drawer shut and sent up one last prayer that his eyes weren’t as red as he thought they were. Bucky cocked his head in the direction of the kitchen, either he hadn’t noticed, or he pretended not to. Steve couldn’t tell anymore. Bucky headed back out of the room as Steve followed, quickly wiped his eyes as he shoved more air down into his lungs. 

Bucky's proud little grin brought Steve back to the present as he stood next to his finished product. 

Grilled cheese. 

This discovery made Steve chuckle as he picked up a plate of the sandwiches. 

“Where'd you learn the make these?”

“Google.”

They exchanged chuckles at that. Bucky really was learning, adjusting. They could both feel it. The realization made Steve want to cry once more as he tested out his food. 

“This is fantastic, Buck!” Through a mouthful of cheese. 

Bucky actually laughed at that. Exposed his teeth and shook his shoulders with it. Steve had never smiled so hard in his life, eyes almost shut with the force of it. The two of them sat there, soaked in the moment. Let the warmth of trust seep into their bones. 

★★★★★

The Soldier had a routine. He shared it with Steve now. Every morning he'd wake up to the soft snores emitted by the man next to him before he showered and checked on his plants. The Soldier would then wait for Steve to wake up a plethora of ways. Television, the news was helpful, reading the books Sam gave him, Game of Thrones was a little too much, Harry Potter made him happy, or basking in the early morning glow of the city. It wasn't Brooklyn, he remembered enough of that now, but it was something as close to a home as he'd gotten in a lifetime. But in the recent days past, The Soldier noticed a change in his routine. Before he would get out of bed, he'd take an extra few minutes to just watch. Watch the placid way Steve's chest rose and fell with each breath. The way his lush eyelashes fluttered like they were caught in a breeze. The blush that would dust his cheeks, warming his skin so that The Soldier could feel it.

The Soldier felt something in these moments. Something akin to hope moved through him in the softest waves. The Soldier promised himself something on one of these days, as Steve Rogers breathed out a chorus of morning light. The Soldier would try his hardest to be Bucky Barnes. To be better. He wouldn't hurt things anymore, he'd remember. Even if Steve never loved him, even if The Soldier couldn't learn to love he would learn to be human again. For Steve. For his own future. 

The Soldier and Steve had a routine, now. Steve would join the dance everyday as The Soldier moved around him. A touch here, a soft word there. A head on a lap and fingers stroked through brown tresses. Touch was routine now, and The Soldier accepted it. He knew he wouldn't hurt anything as long as he remembered he wasn't a machine anymore. 

The Soldier hadn't had a nightmare in months, the feeling of safety and trust, progress and laughter clearing his subconscious of its blood and broken heart. The touched turned to conversation, two heavy souls weighing down a bed as they talked about everything and nothing. Rehashing old thoughts, memories thought to be forgotten. A hand brushed across The Soldier’s own as sharp blue eyes took in his words. 

In these moments, The Soldier wondered if Steve could ever love him. If he'd want that. The Soldier knew Bucky would want it, and The Soldier felt more like Bucky, like  _ himself  _ every day. The disconnect between Bucky Barnes and The Soldier was disappearing, and soon they'd mix to be one soul, one version of Bucky Barnes that was close enough to the original to pass through. 

The moments when Steve would touch him and share a look that seemed a mixture of nostalgic and hopeful, The Soldier-  _ Bucky _ wanted to give it back, was inching there all on his own. 

_ I’m Bucky. _

So he asked a question. A question that had skipped around in his head for months. One he never thought he'd bring himself to ask. 

“A while ago, you said we were friends.” Almost asked. He couldn't quite get the rest out, freezing and thawing again when Steve slid his thumb across  _ Bucky’s _ knuckles. 

“We are, Buck. We always were, and we will be as long as you want.” Steve mused, all the while he stroked Bucky’s flesh hand. 

“Forever.” Bucky blurted out. That got a chuckle from Steve’s throat. 

“Whatever you want, pal.” 

Bucky figured that was as close as he was going to get to that, and he didn't know whether to be proud of himself for trying, or mortified he only got that far. He chose mortified, moving to lie on his back and stare at the white ceiling, Steve’s hands grasped firmly in his. 

Bucky fell asleep like that, a hand in his, a blush covering his cheeks as he expended the last of his energy thinking of ways to tell Steve what he couldn't even get himself to say. As the last of his consciousness slipped from his grasp, Bucky could've sworn he heard a few words fall from Steve's lips. 

“Never gonna leave you again, darlin’.” 

★★★★★

**Austria, 1944**

The war raged through the European theater as Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes played their own roles. They traversed Austria, eliminated one Hydra cell after another. Weeks spent with the men crazy enough to follow them. They slept on the forest floor, wished on the moon. Drenched in moonlight and bound by silence were the only times the two men could really be alone. Could be who they really were to each other. 

“Shh, shh, Buck someone's gonna hear us.” 

A hand slipped under a waistband let him know his words meant nothing under the cover of a tree line and away from the camp. 

“Stevie it's all right doll. Just- just let me.”

A gasp punctuated the space where a response wasn't given. Pressed into the dark against a tree, the only response needed was the push of hips and the slide of lips against exposed skin. Hands in hair held on for dear life while other hands balanced out on opposite ends. 

“Gonna take care of you, sweetheart.” 

★★★★★

The Soldier- no,  _ Bucky, _ remembered. Felt how far away the man fast asleep beside him really was. Knew he'd have to ask for what he wanted, but that was just too much to be afraid of.

So the routine started again, this time it left room for Bucky's doubt to wedge the thinnest wall between them. Bucky knew Steve could tell something was off when he sat a little farther away, spoke a little less, but Bucky couldn't bring himself to say it. To ask for it. He didn't even know if Steve would want to love him the way he was. 

Around dinner time, Steve got restless. 

“Buck, come here.” reached a hand for the man seated in the chair across from the couch.

Bucky obeyed, padded to the couch to land next to Steve, all the while wished the cushions would swallow him up so he'd never have to explain himself. Steve took Bucky's hand and traced the veins stretched across the expanse of his skin. 

“Is everything okay? If you need something you can tell me.” Steve prompted. 

If only Bucky could tell him. Did he need Steve? Bucky was fairly sure he did. Bucky figured he wouldn't be anywhere without him. In their younger days, Bucky would take care of Steve, help keep him alive. Now it was Steve's turn and Bucky truly understood why Steve never wanted to ask for things he needed. So Bucky shook his head. Deflected. 

“I'm fine, Stevie. Just tired.” Bucky’s eyes widened at the nickname, but he didn't raise his head from where it was glued watching the threads in the carpet. 

Steve's hand held his just a little tighter, and all the air came tumbling out of Bucky's lungs in one quick rush. 

“All right. If you're sure.” Steve agreed gently, pressed the lightest of kisses to Bucky's temple. 

The water welled up in Bucky’s eyes didn't match his blush as Steve pulled away. Bucky nodded and removes himself from the couch, and then the room. He meandered towards the bedroom, wondered how he was going to put the air back where he needed it to be. 

He shuffled through the doorway, didn’t bother to close to door behind him. As Bucky sat on the edge of the bed, he had a thought. It prickled behind his eyes and settled with a stinging sensation in the pit of his stomach. He thought back to the time he'd caught Steve looking at something in his drawer, something that had summoned tears to his eyes. Bucky glanced to the bedside table, and then to the door. He knew he shouldn't look, shouldn't invade the privacy of the person who'd had nothing but patience with Bucky's privacy and recovery. He cringed at the temptation, but Bucky's curiosity won him over. 

He reached quickly across the bed towards the drawer and popped it open before he had the chance to dwell on it more.As Bucky reached into the compartment, he felt something like a glossy paper. It was the only object in the space so he pulled it out deftly. It was a photograph. Of Bucky. The old Bucky. The one Steve wanted, Bucky realized as he sat down hard on the bed. His eyes burned a hole in the photo, captivated by the sight of himself from a lifetime ago. 

  
This was who Steve wanted. This man, not the one that held the photo. Steve had settled for the next best thing and they both just pretended it was going to work. Steve could never love this Bucky. This used, frigid  _ thing _ . Bucky threw the picture back into the drawer, slammed it shut. The noise caused footsteps to sound down the hallway, but Bucky was already out the window but the time they arrived. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y'all know what time it is

Bucky hurled himself down the slick fire escape and into the evening lit streets. He had no direction or clue as to where he was going, his brain only screamed a mantra of _away away away._ Steve didn’t want him. _Steve didn’t want him._ Bucky had to run, get away from that revelation before it tore him to shreds. He tore through the streets as fast a he could, raced his thoughts. Bucky slid to a stop in front of the warehouse he’d stayed in all those months ago. It seemed like a different lifetime. Bucky was starting to think he’d lived a few too many of those.

The last time he’d been there, he had collected his knives and guns, took them to Steve’s and placed them strategically throughout the apartment. Steve’s apartment. No place for Bucky anymore. The thought of this let Bucky realize he didn’t have any weapons. He’d stopped carrying them months ago. Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, unconsciously pulled himself in again while he strode away. No knowledge of where to go while he wished he had a knife, Bucky circled around D.C. Past the museum, where Steve’s Bucky was laid to rest under a glowing marquee of praise and heroism.

Past the mall, and its glistening little waves that shifted in the breeze as the sun went down. Bucky felt exposed. Like he needed to protect himself. Without weapon to wield, Bucky was forced to be the weapon, a feeling he hadn’t experienced since he hadn’t known his own name. Each new street seemed to greet him with a new thought of the life he’d left behind him. The tracks in the dust were closer than he realized, though. Bucky didn’t realize the tears slipped down his cheeks until he felt the cool night air sting the tracks. He huffed a laugh at his emotions. He felt weak as he roamed the streets and cried over someone who didn’t want him.

★★★★★

When Steve reached the room Bucky was gone and the window was wide open. Steve shot over to it and threw his head out, frantically tried to locate the head of brown locks he was so familiar with. Bucky never left without telling Steve where he was going, rarely ever left alone. Steve tried to calm his screaming nerves to pull out his phone. He dialed Bucky's number, only to be ignored. He did the only thing he could think of and left a voicemail as calmly as he could.

“Hey, Bucky it's me. Just wanted to know where you went. Call me back when you can.”

He hung up the phone, worry carved into his face like it was stone. Had he scared Bucky off? _Fuck_ Steve shouldn't have kissed him that had to be it- or what if Bucky just wanted to be alone? Steve couldn't panic he just needed to wait. Maybe Bucky was finally starting to go out into the world again. Maybe this wasn't bad. So Steve stiffly shuffled back into the living room to wait.

_I need you._

★★★★★

Bucky tensed at the little sound as it blared from his pocket. He reached in and realized he had his phone, and that Steve had been calling. Bucky pressed ignore, turned it off and shoved it deep into his pocket. Steve just wanted to know where he was so he could make Bucky come home. So Bucky wouldn't think he wasn't wanted because that was the kind of beautiful person Steve was and _fuck_ Bucky was crying again. He swiped a hand across his eyes and realized he didn't have his gloves. He'd stopped wearing them at hom- Steve’s apartment.

Bucky buried his hands in his pockets and picked up his pace, heading West for no reason. He didn't know where he'd stop, just that Steve didn't want him. The only thing that rolled through his head while he barely kept more tears at bay.

He stopped on a park bench as the sun was coming up, reached for his phone and turnedit back on. Four missed calls, five text messages.

 **Steve:** _Are you okay?_

 **_Steve:_ ** _Buck please call me._

 **Steve:** _I'm sorry if this is my fault. Bucky please come home._

 **_Steve:_ ** _Buck please just tell me where you are._

Bucky almost called. Almost cried for forgiveness that he’d left and that he wasn't enough to be worthy of Steve's love. _I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry._

Bucky shook his head and put the phone away again. Break it off clean and easy, let Steve have the life he deserved.

★★★★★

Steve was panicked . Bucky hadn't come home, hadn't called. So Steve paced with his phone in his hand until the sun came up. Too much anxiety twisted in his stomach to let him eat or stop pacing. He had to find Bucky. If nothing was wrong Bucky would've called, would've done _something._ So when Sam came through the door around ten, Steve almost crashed through as he tried to see if it was Bucky. Sam held his hands up, kept Steve at bay before he ran Sam over.

“Hey, hey man what's wrong?” 

“Bucky's gone, Sam.” Steve huffed.

“Whoa whoa what?” Sam stepped back and raised his eyebrows.

“He left last night and he won't answer the phone and I don't know what to do, Sam.” Steve's voice cracked, finally broke the dam and let the tears pour from his eyes.

Sam pulled Steve in, patted his back and whispered quiet promises.

“Hey, hey Steve it's gonna be fine. We’ll find him I promise.”

Steve sniffed. He felt small and useless. He lifted his head and shoved down the feeling, nodded in agreement to Sam. Steve wasn't going to lose Bucky again. _He wasn't._

Steve had spent so long hating the world for letting him be the one to live, and now he had the chance to make some of it right. To do it for Bucky like he should've all those years ago.

★★★★★

Bucky woke up under the trees while he breathed in the scent of the winter breeze. The trees had lost all their leaves months ago, so Bucky was left to stare up at the bleak sky, thankful there hadn't been snow yet. He'd landed in the same woods he'd come out of when he first left Steve on the bank of the Potomac. Sat on the bank of the river and relived all the moments he'd left in its current. He slept out in the cold, alone and dazed, waitedfor some inner compulsion to move or make a plan. All Bucky wanted was home. _Steve._

When he turned on his phone, there were a few more missed calls. Missed opportunities to make it right.  To let Steve know it was okay. Bucky couldn't bring himself to sever the thread, knew he'd never really be able to.

★★★★★

It had been three days since Bucky had left without explanation and Steve was in pieces, scattered along the floor. He barely ate, barely slept. His mind was a continuous march of _Bucky Bucky Bucky._ Sam tried to make him sleep and it only ended up in more tears and blank stares at the ceiling. Steve felt hollow, cold. Like he'd failed and all his prayers were for nothing. The only consistent practice was the fact that his phone was always charged, next to his head while it waited for the ring that would fix this whole mess. Every night the weather got colder and every night Steve Rogers cried himself to sleep as he tossed and turned just like the thoughts that wracked his brain.

★★★★★

On the fourth day it snowed and Bucky Barnes gave up. Steve obviously felt terrible about this whole thing. About Bucky finding out the truth. And Bucky was cold, hungry and so, so tired. So he picked up his phone, on his last few minutes of battery, and called. Called without an idea as to what he would say or if he'd even actually say anything. Just called. That would have to do for now.

★★★★★

Steve jolted up. His phone had rung. Probably Sam. But it was almost midnight, and, with a pang Steve realized it was snowing. Steve searched for the beeping device and froze when he read he name flashed across the screen.

_Bucky._

Bucky had called. _Bucky had called!_

 _“_ Hello? Bucky?” Steve tried to steady the shallow breaths that invaded his chest as he waited for an answer.

The silence stretched on for several tense beats as Steve learned to inhale properly again.

“Steve.” One hoarsely let out word. It was enough to send Steve spiraling.

“Buck where are you? Are you all right?” Steve rushed out.

“I-” The call ended. Steve pulled the phone away from his ear. Pressed call again. Steve was met immediately with Bucky's voicemail.

“Shit!”

★★★★★

Bucky bit his lip and tried to turn his phone back on to no avail. He sighed and leaned back into the tree he'd sat in front of. If he started to walk now he'd be back well before sunrise. But then what? He'd go home and maybe Steve would take pity on him and let him stay. The tears prickled at his eyes again, so Bucky resolutely began to walk home. _Take a step and don't cry. Take a step and don't cry. Take a step and stop crying._

★★★★★

Steve had spent the last three pacing circles again. He'd called Sam who told him just stay inside and wait it out. The call might've meant Bucky wanted to come home or that he was in trouble. But what if Bucky showed up and Steve wasn't there? So Steve waited and paced until he was sure his feet would go numb.

★★★★★

At four in the morning, Bucky had reached Steve's front door. He didn't want to knock, didn't want to make Steve have to deal with him again. Maybe Natasha would help him find somewhere to stay? No, Natasha would tell him to go home to Steve, and that he was being completely ridiculous. Maybe she was right. The least he could do was talk to him. So Bucky knocked, a weak little tap of the fist and the door swung open before he'd even finished knocking the last time. Before he had to chance to open his mouth, Bucky was pulled into Steve's arms, a tight embrace around his frame. Bucky shoved his face into the space between Steve's shoulder and throat, breathing in the familiar scent. Steve just held him, let the moments stretch on like this was exactly where they were meant to be. After another few seconds Steve pulled back, framed Bucky's face with his  big warm hands.

“Buck, what's wrong? You're shaking.”

Oh. He hadn't noticed. Bucky's whole body vibrated on a high frequency as he trembled in Steve's front doorway. Bucky knew he was supposed to say something, anything to explain himself, he couldn't get his mouth to open. Bucky shook his head, dropped it to train his eyes on the tops of his black leather  boots. There was a tension in the air, like they weren't supposed to talk about what Bucky had been doing the past few days. Steve's hands had moved to Bucky's arms, rubbed slow lines up and down the covered flesh and metal. The crease between Steve's brows grew, before he cocked his head towards inside, turning to bring Bucky with him.

The two men were silent as they orbited around each other with a strange distance. Bucky ate, showered, and ditched his old clothes before he slipped into bed next to Steve. Normal routine, mixed with an awful twisting in the both of them. Bucky felt like a coward, Steve felt the same. Wrapped up in a million things they didn't want to say on separte islands in the same sea.

Bucky huffed a sigh and peeked from the corner of his eye at Steve. Steve's glossy eyes were locked on the ceiling, his slow, even breath a consistent comfort. Bucky could practically feel the guilt rolling off the man in waves upon waves. Bucky figured if he wasn't going to explain anything to Steve yet, he could at least tell him it was all right. That Bucky understood. So Bucky turned over, threw his arm over Steve's waist. He felt Steve start in suppose under him, so Bucky nuzzled his face into the crook of Steve's neck. The soft skin smelled of fresh linen and the slightest hint of cedar. The smell of home. A smell that hadn't changed in a hundred years. Bucky took one last completely unthought out risk and slid one of his legs between Steve's, settling further into him. When Steve's arms came to entwine around him, Bucky let out the tiny breath he'd taken when he’d started this. He could tell Steve it was okay, be he could also be a little selfish since Steve probably wouldn't ever want it to happen again. So cushioned on a warm chest, surrounded by the only arms he ever wanted, Bucky Barnes let sleep take him on the beat of Steve's heart, strong and true.

Right as Bucky's breath finally evened out, Steve let his cheek brush over the top of Bucky's head. The faintest whisper ghosted over his hair. Bucky tightened his grip on Steve's waist, halfway to sleep, and Steve's words made his heart skip around in his chest. Through a sleepy daze, Bucky just made out the request.

“Please don't ever hide so far away that I can't find you.”

★★★★★

Their routine continued, only with a different emotion behind it. Bucky almost cried when he realized Steve had taken care of his plants for him while he was gone. More almost-tears when Steve made his favorite breakfast, almost like a plea full of reasons why Bucky shouldn't leave. It made Bucky fell something akin to sick, knowing he'd made Steve that guilty.

Sam stopped by to make sure they were all right, and brought more interesting coffee drinks. Bucky toyed with his straw while Sam wrinkled his nose and asked,

“Man why is it so hot in here?”

Steve ducked his head, as a slight blush rose to color his cheekbones.

“I don't like the cold.”

And Bucky realized he might not be the only one recovering.

★★★★★

The days stretched impossibly long as the dance continued. Bucky almost never spoke, chose to keep his head down and give Steve space.

Steve couldn't place why Bucky had pulled away. Spent endless hours in thought while he tried to figure out what he'd done, why Bucky wanted to be so far from him now.

On the fourth day of this, Bucky couldn't take it. He was smothered in tension and guilt, so he did the only thing he could think of to diffuse it. He put on his coat, grabbed his phone and stocked his pockets with knives. Steve got up from the couch, looked all kinds of terrified in the process.

“I'm just going to for a walk. I'll come back.” Bucky mumbled.

Steve visibly deflated, nodded once and sat back down,shoulders still tense and tight. Bucky flinched before he rushed through the door towards open air.

These walks continued for days, odd hours and odd locations. The third time Bucky escaped the silent stretch of time in the apartment, he found himself in a place he'd only ever been told to stay away from in his younger days. But these were new times, filled with new people. Bucky didn't know how long he stared at the bar, watched the couples traverse in and out, while he wondered if he and Steve could've been like that. In love, in a safe place. When he couldn't stand to watch couples kiss and have what he couldn't, Bucky wandered farther uptown. No rhyme or reason to his steps, he inhaled the clear air and tried to move around the muddled mess in his head. This place wasn’t New York, but if Bucky closed his eyes and just...felt, he could almost hear the cars, the shouting people and picture Steve Rogers’ tiny frame as it lead him towards whatever trouble they’d managed to find that day. When Bucky Barnes was exactly who Steve Rogers wanted him to be, when Bucky Barnes was the right person for him.

★★★★★

Steve Rogers was fairly sure he on the verge of his first asthma attack in seventy-five years. Pacing the floor while Sam and Natasha looked on curiously.

“Steve, you still haven’t told us why you’re about to burn a hole in the floor.” Nat mused.

“He’s going out all the time, barely speaks to me, won’t let me touch him, and everytime I get close he just...shuts off. Looks all guilty and absolutely heartbroken, and I don’t know what the hell I did, Nat. I don’t know how to fix it.” Steve’s voice had cracked by the end. It revealed  just how fragmented his insides were.

Natasha frowned and contemplated her next response.

“Have you tried to talk to him?” She inquired.

“Every damn day, Nat. Then he just leaves again and comes home at strange hours and doesn’t say a word.” Steve huffed as he finally collapsed onto the couch, hands pressed to his face in either prayer or agony, Natasha couldn’t quite tell.

Sam sat with his arms crossed, the fingers of one hand stroked across his chin while he thought.

“Steve, have you just stopped him and asked what’s wrong? He knows you know something is up, but there’s a reason he isn’t saying anything. Tell him he can tell you, and then assure him that whatever it is, you aren’t going to leave him because you want him to stay. Not because you feel like you owe him something. That’ll just make him feel more guilty.” Sam advised wisely.

Steve furrowed his brows, assessed Sam’s instructions. Sam was right. Steve just needed to clear the air, communicate. It had gotten them this far. So he nodded, looked up to meet Sam’s level gaze.

“You’re right,” On a sigh, “When he gets home we’ll just… talk it out, once and for all.” Steve finished, resolute in his decision.

Sam gave him that million watt grin, while Natasha smiled warmly at him. It was already around ten, so Sam and Nat bid their goodbyes, wanting to be gone before Bucky arrived.

When Bucky arrived home two hours later, Steve Rogers was ready to go full throttle stubborn. He set his jaw and held his arms at his sides. He refused  to cross them and come off as hostile. Bucky noticed right away, halted his steps near the door. Steve took a step forward, and then backwards, not sure how to start. Bucky looked bewildered, and a little terrified. Steve cleared his throat before he set his jaw and finally broke the ice that had settled over both of them.  

“Buck, can we talk for a minute?”

★★★★★

If it was possible for Bucky to freeze even more, he had done it. This was it. Steve was going to break it to him, tell Bucky the movie was over and he needed to leave. Bucky had spent countless hours imagining that moment, but it was a million times more frightening while it stared  him in the face. So Bucky did the only thing he could think to do. He panicked. Bucky shook his head, tried to beat Steve to the punch.

“No, no it’s all right, Stevie,” He winced at the nickname. “You don’t have to. I saw that photograph you keep. I’m not him, anymore, and I could never expect you to love someone who was anything like me. You’re a hero, Steve. I’m everything that opposes that. I’m- I’m so _fucking_ sorry you feel like you have to help me. God, Steve I don’t deserve you and I never did. Not even when I was him. But I was closer, then. You’re a million miles above me now.”

With a whimper, Bucky found the final nail for his coffin. In all the time he’d worried and left.  his plants had started to die. He couldn’t even keep three _fucking_ plants alive, let alone be a human being worthy of the kind of love that came with Steve Rogers. So as Steve stood behind the couch and tried to heft his jaw off of the floor, Bucky Barnes used his one true talent. He ran. Left his problems in the dust and got the hell out of there, faster the better.

★★★★★

That was not how Steve had envisioned finding out what had been plaguing Bucky. At all.

★★★★★

Bucky ran. Ran so fast the breath was pulled out of his heaving lungs with a gasp he hadn't realized he’d taken. He stopped at the docks, pulled in a shallow breath before he came to a hesitant stop at the end of a pier. Bucky used to work here. Countless hours spent hauling boxes and crates so he could come home and tell Stevie they had enough money to go out that night. All easy smiles and awkward limbs. Exhausted but free. Bucky wouldn't ever going to be that person again. He wouldn't ever come home with an easy, tired smile and promise that everything would be fine.

Bucky was going to come home closed off and distant. His smile would be more like a grimace and then he’d see the stupid, _sad_ look on Steve’s face and he would feel terrible, and lock himself in  the bedroom again. The thought made him choke out a laugh on a breath that felt more like a sob. _God,_ _he was so fucking stupid._ Bucky had let himself think he could get away with pretending he was the same person he’d always been, and if he could pull off the charade, then maybe Steve would still want him. But he didn’t. And Bucky figured it was time to let it go, or something. Or something. Bucky was pulled out of his reverie, if that’s what it could be called, by the sound of tense footsteps. The kind of walk you use if you didn't  want to spook the thing you were coming towards. Steve. Bucky let him walk until he was a few feet away before Bucky turned around.

“Hey.” Steve breathed out, even more quiet than before.

“You followed me.”

“I- yeah, yeah I did,” Steve swallowed visibly, closed his eyes for a second. “Listen, I know you think-”

“Steve just fucking drop it, okay? It’s over and I’m different and neither one of us can change it, all right?”

“Buck-”

“I said fucking drop it! Steve just let it go, please.” Bucky practically sobbed the words into his hand as it went to cover his mouth, trying to dam the tears back into his head.

Steve looked like he wanted to come closer. Bucky saw the little twitch of his hands fighting off the urge to pull Bucky into a hug, but he stayed where he was. Steve took a long look at Bucky, who was trying not to hyperventilate, while trying to hide how the speed of his breathing had spiked as if he was running again.

Steve sighed and looked down at his hands. Bucky watched him pull something out of the pocket of his jacket before finally striding over to Bucky like he’d been itching to. Bucky lowered his hand from his mouth and trailed Steve with his eyes while The other man stopped next to him, facing the water with his elbows on the rail. Steve had a folded piece of paper in his hands, and he gripped it tightly with both hands.

Bucky turns back around, stealing a glance up at Steve’s face. His eyes were glassy and wet, and Bucky realized he must have been holding back tears, too. Probably because he was trying to come up with a way to let Bucky down easy, tell Bucky he’d moved on and didn’t think it was a good idea for Bucky to stick around. Before Bucky could beat him to it, tell him to just say it already, Steve turned and met Bucky’s eyes.

“Listen, Buck. Just let me say this, please.” Steve’s eyes were pleading with him to _just let him do this._

Bucky just nodded, and cast his gaze out to the sea.

“Bucky, look at me.” Steve pleaded softly.

Bucky pulled his sights back to the man in front of him. Steve was crying now. Big translucent drops that were Bucky’s fault. _Bucky’s fault._ Steve opened the palm that was still holding the paper, and took it in his other hand. It wasn’t a paper, it was a photograph. The photograph. Steve turned it to show Bucky who the photo had captured. Bucy already knew, but choked back another sob at the sight. Bucky had only seen one side of the portrait, it had been folded in half. The full sight was Bucky and Steve. The Steve who looked at him like he put all the stars in the sky. The Bucky he used to be. The one Steve loved. Not the one who lived in the broken shell of that man.

“Buck. That man, that’s not you anymore. I got you back and you’re not him. But damn it, Bucky I’m not that kid anymore either. I’m not him and I won’t be ever again. And that’s all right.”

Steve took one last look at the photograph before he threw it into the waves. His eyes didn’t leave it until he couldn’t see it anymore. Bucky let the sobs pour out this time, and Steve gave him one to match.

“I don’t care about what you did, I only care about what we do. Together. I don’t expect you to be that man, and God, James Buchanan Barnes, I don’t want you to be.”

  
And then they’re kissing. Steve’s hands are cupping his face and it takes Bucky a second to respond. Steve wants him? _Steve wants him._ Bucky’s then kissing back with both hands wrapped around either side of Steve’s hips. It’s a kiss like the ocean. Salty and wet from the tears, rough and bruising from the months and months of want pent up until crashed onto them like a wave. And _Jesus Christ_ Bucky wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.


	9. Chapter 9

Home was now a tangle of muscled limbs woven together on a couch, as lips slipped across one another. Steve’s hands wound in Bucky’s hair. Bucky’s hands roamed Steve’s chest now that he was allowed to do that again. But that was the funny part. Bucky hadn’t realized he’d always been allowed to. Steve never thought less of him, never doubted him. Bucky Barnes knew he didn’t deserve it for a second, but that wouldn’t stop him from taking as much as he could hold. Wet kisses pressed down Bucky’s jaw as his jacket hit the floor. It left his arms exposed to wrap around Steve’s neck as he pinned himself to the man whose lap Bucky was currently in. 

★★★★★

Bucky’s gasps and hitched little breaths were the only things that tethered Steve to the planet anymore.His heart pounded in his ears but his hands were steady and sure, a vice on Bucky’s waist that pulled him impossibly closer. Steve had everything he wanted, everything he ever needed, all under his hands. He’d told Bucky how he felt and it was like a breath of the cleanest spring air, a sign of warmth to come. 

The kisses became deeper, drawn out and desperate. Almost like neither man wanted to part their lips long enough to kiss again. Steve plunged his hands back into the dark brown tresses crowned on Bucky’s head. He tilted his jaw and slipped his tongue through eager plump lips. A low whine drawled from the brunet’s mouth right into the blond’s, only urging on the blush that climbed Steve’s throat. When lips were finally detached for air, Steve barely had time to take advantage of the newfound oxygen before Bucky’s mouth began to roam his throat and crimson bruises were sucked even though they would disappear before the men were done exploring one another. 

An hour later, collapsed in a pile of limbs and heavy inhales, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes felt their thread pull taut as it secured them together permanently. A rising affection pressed deep into the bones told them every sweet notion they would ever need to hear. Bucky curled into Steve’s side, nuzzled his head along Steve’s jaw. Steve grinned, a tired, sloppy thing that exuded a light he was fairly certain would never go out. The blond kissed Bucky's forehead one last time before he clicked off the light and hugged Bucky closer. 

“I'll always choose you, darling.” 

★★★★★

**London,1945**

“Bucky, stop-” 

“Can it, Rogers! Now you listen to me, all right? Carter, she's beautiful and smart and a  _ woman.  _ You're gonna marry her and have some kids and a house. Stevie, you don't need me. You're a hero, the whole damned world knows who you are. All I'm gonna do is make your life even harder, so just- just marry her, okay?” 

Bucky's eyes crackled with the light from the street lamps outside. Rimmed in red and refleted with unused tears. Steve licked his lips, steeled his jaw for the fight. 

“I don't want her, I want you,” Steve countered. “You're the one I'm in love with and frankly, I couldn't give a damn what the rest of the world thinks. And James Buchanan Barnes don't for one goddamned second think you aren't a hero.” Steve finished, leaned back, waiting for the heat to leave Bucky's eyes. 

“You're wrong, Steve. You've got a chance at a life. You shouldn't want me.” 

“I do want you, and I'm not sorry about that.” Steve closed the space between them, grabbed Bucky's shoulders. He let a hand sweep up to cup Bucky's jaw, as he leaned in close. 

Bucky tipped his head up on instinct, as the tears freely fell. 

“Shut up.” Bucky mumbled, fire finally faded from his irises. 

“Never.” Steve smirked and pressed the softest kiss to Bucky's parted lips. 

“I love you.” Steve whispered. 

“I love you too, jerk.” Bucky sniffed as he held Steve tighter,  his arms snaked around the blond’s waist. 

“Just you, Buck. Always.”

★★★★★

Sunlight settled between their ribs and broke the stone out of the crevices. Steve and Bucky were once again SteveandBucky. Intertwined so tight there was never any hope at seeing where one stopped and the other started. Constantly close, pressed against one another whenever they could be. Kisses and touches never ending and plentiful. When it came to them, love couldn't die, it could only be momentarily forgotten. 

Bucky's plants had been weak and frail, but he'd saved them. He'd held their small lives in his hands and built them strong and beautiful. They were alive, thrived, and Bucky had to give himself credit. His hands had given life where they used to take it left and right. Steve reflected his pride like a brand new mirror, added his own warmth to the life. 

In the weeks after their confessions, life went on, but it felt new,  _ alive.  _ The days were filled with endless wonder and nights held intimate new pieces. No more blame, no more anger and frustration. Forward wasn't linear, but it was easier. 

When the cold began to break, and the sun stretched its rays towards to ground, Sam asked Bucky to try group therapy with him. Bucky agreed and warily wondered if he was ready to be a part of the outside world. Sam gave him that diamond smile, assured him he seemed pretty damned ready. So Bucky went, listened to all the stories of people not quite so different from himself. Bucky couldn't bring himself to share any part of his past quite yet, but knowledge he wasn't as alone as he'd felt was another piece slid into place. One more shard of his heart that fell into formation. 

★★★★★

When spring was in full swing, flowers bloomed outside and in his chest, Steve received a phone call over coffee with the man of his dreams. 

“We need you to come in.” Nick Fury’s voice crackled down the line like gravel. 

Steve's smile fell as he met Bucky's eyes and contemplated his choice. 

“What is it?” Steve questioned. 

“We have a read on Brock Rumlow. He's in a compound surrounded by Hydra. The whole team is going out for this. We need you here, Rogers.” 

Steve swallowed, squinted as he suddenly found the marble grain of the kitchen island fascinating. 

“All right.” Steve's answer rang out, settled something within their fate, though he wasn't sure what. 

“Debriefing is in an hour.” With that, Fury hung up. 

Steve set his phone gently on the counter, as the other hand travelled up to run across his chin. Bucky looked on worriedly, eyes crinkled as he squinted towards Steve. 

“What is it?” He pressed. 

“I have to go in. They found-” Steve didn't know how to phrase it. “They found your old handler,” Steve finished after he swallowed tightly. 

Bucky's lips formed a tight line as he sat back in his chair. Steve reached out a hand and grasped Bucky's flesh in his own. 

“I want to come with you.” Bucky blurted out. 

“Buck, no-”

“Stevie, it's my past. It's my red that I can help clean up.” Bucky had made up his mind, resolute and ready to argue. 

_ Respect the dignity of his choice. _

“I- I can't- you don't have to do this.” It was a last ditch effort to chip at marble that wasn't going to shake. 

Bucky shook his head. A small, fond smile moved past his lips. 

“I do.”

Steve nodded grimly, the last thing he wanted was to throw Bucky back into this life. 

“All right. I'll have your six the whole time. We'll do this together.” Steve finally concluded. 

Bucky smiled, “Just like the old days, huh?” 

“I’d still follow you anywhere, baby.”

Natasha picked them up in her tiny sports car, two muscled supersoldiers packed tight into the back seat. Sam clapped Bucky on the back, let him know he'd come a long way. Bucky traded Sam a smile. A real one. These were his friends too, and he appreciated them endlessly. 

The drive to the unofficial S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters was silent as everyone held their breath for different reasons. This was the part Steve hadn't thought about. How would the rest of the Avengers, the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D, react to seeing the Winter Soldier? Most of them hadn't seen his face, but only the Avengers knew he had been looking for Bucky. Going in blind was going to eat him alive. 

Natasha parked and the four got out of the car, Steve and Bucky not without almost losing their heads in the tiny doorway. What was left of S.H.I.E.L.D, Nick Fury had rounded up and relocated to a small office building uptown. The sign outside read Nelson Construction Co. in big blue lettering. They steeled  themselves for whatever the world behind that door would hold, as they each stepped through the shiny glass doors. Natasha strode up the front desk, told the receptionist she was here to see Mr. Nelson. 

At Natasha's request, the door behind the reception desk slid open with a whir and exposed the room that bustled behind behind it. People in and out of uniform swept around with various papers, technology, and weapons. Natasha led them through the menagerie to a back office lined in glass with the shades pulled down. No one had seemed to notice Barnes yet, but they had all briefly looked up at the entrance of three Avengers. Steve got nods and waves left and right, returned them all with a small smile. These people had believed in him, had followed him when he'd needed it. They'd been lied to just as he had. Maybe they'd follow his lead on trusting Bucky too. 

Bucky kept his head down, hands in his pockets. He stuck close to Steve, making sure they always made contact. When they weren't, Bucky would shift just slightly, and press them together again. Steve glanced down at him as worried eyes danced over Bucky's skin. He lightly nudged the man with his elbow, made him look up. They shared tense smiles, filed after Natasha into the office. 

The room held a long Formica conference table, surrounded by Avengers. Steve Rogers hadn't seen these people in a year. Clint and Thor stood across from them, while Maria Hill stood with Nick Fury at the head of the table. When they door swung open, and the four stepped in, all eyes moved to rest on Bucky. Clint shared a look of confusion with Natasha, who shrugged and stepped to stand near Fury. Thor seemed unfazed by the human’s bewilderment. Steve checked out the look on Bucky’s face as the brunet tensed next to him. Steve figured it was time to deflect attention. 

“I thought you said the whole team was going out.” Steve questioned Fury, noting the absence of Stark, Banner, and Rhodes. 

“Stark and Banner aren’t going to make it. Something about a new AI. Rhodes is currently leading a tactical team in Afghanistan. And since we’ve got another set of hands,” Fury looks pointedly at Bucky, “We should be all right.” 

So much for deflecting. 

Steve cleared his throat, nudged Bucky. 

“This is Bucky Barnes. You all probably know him as the Winter Soldier,” As soons as Bucky’s head had risen, it fell again , and tension squeezed his bones tight. “He’s here to help us. Hydra brainwashed him. Forced him to do the things that he did. But he isn’t that- person anymore. He’s my friend. I’m not asking you to trust him, just let him help us.” Steve finished, and leveled his gaze at his teammates. 

Thor smiled and nodded jovially at the dark haired man. Bucky traded a weak smile back. Clint strolled over and planted a slap on Bucky’s back. 

“Welcome to the team.” 

Bucky didn’t know just how well Clint understood being taken apart from the inside out. Maria nodded her agreement

“Let’s get started.” Fury said before he gestured to the screen behind him. 

“Brock Rumlow, goes by Crossbones now. He’s been strategizing up and down the Eastern Seaboard, stealing biological weapons. The first instance of this was in November of last year. What’s left of S.H.I.E.L.D has been trying to locate him and his team of about six men. Last night he showed up on our radar at an abandoned Hydra base in New Jersey.” 

The old Brooklyn in Steve and Bucky cringed, and they both wrinkled their noses. 

After another twenty minutes of planning and debriefing, the team set out to New Jersey. Hill had stayed behind with Fury, so they piled three to a black SUV and traversed up the east coast. The ride was mostly silent, Sam and Steve took turns at the wheel. Bucky stayed silent in the back, eyes pensively locked on the passing scenery out of the window.  

Four hours later they pulled off the narrow road and into the cover of the woods. A mile up the road lay a compound that crawled with Hydra. Bucky felt the prickle under his skin that told him he was too close to something he’d tried to hard to leave behind. The six piled out of their vehicles and shook out their limbs before they proceeded to grab bags of weapons and technology, courtesy of S.H.I.E.L.D. Steve, always a leader, immediately took charge and called everyone over.

“Everyone suit up. We’ll head in from the West. Thor, Clint, and Natasha, you go in through these doors,” Steve points to the small screen on the pad in front of him. “Bucky, Sam, and I will go through the sublevel tunnels around this corner.”

The team dispersed in a tumble of catsuits and Kevlar. Bucky turned to Steve and handed him the black Kevlar uniform he’d been given. They shared a nod before they split up to prepare. 

When the team was ready they separated,  keeping close together, eyes everywhere. The short hike through the woods ended in an abrupt clearing, concrete walls rising like a fortress. Thor, Clint, and Natasha split off, which left Steve, Bucky, and Sam to break into the sublevels. Sam sped through the heavy metal and steel doorway.  Steve and Bucky were left momentarily alone. As Bucky went to duck through after their teammate, Steve grabbed his metal arm and effectively stopped him. 

“Are you sure about this? You can still turn back, Bucky.” Steve pressed. 

Bucky turned all the way around, stroked Steve’s cheek once with the pad of his thumb.

“Doll, it’s all I have left. They can’t control me anymore. I’ve gotta show them that. Stop them from doing it to anyone else.” Bucky passed Steve a small smile, content and anxious all at the same time. 

“All right. I’ll have your back the whole time, just- be careful okay?” The captain searched Bucky’s eyes and strangled down the reminder that screamed out that  _ he could not lose Bucky again. Never. _

“Promise, Stevie.” Bucky turned then, strode in after Sam, who waited for them leaned against the inner wall of the first tunnel. 

“About time you two showed up. Time to join the party.” Sam snarked. 

Steve’s eyes rolled as the three men threaded through the tunnels, the screen attached to Sam’s arm-piece lead the way. While he wound his way behind Sam, Bucky couldn’t help but shiver at the incendiary mission that raked its claws down his spine. After what felt like a small eternity, the men came to a stop. A metal ladder lead up into God knows what above. A shout and a hard thud were heard above,and Bucky figured the rest of the team must already be there. Sam glanced back at the men behind him, tossed a quick nod before he climbed up and threw open the door. 

Sam shot out of the opening and immediately guns fired as Steve and Bucky went right after him. They had landed in a wide open space, all tall black walls and boarded windows. The floor under their feet slick concrete, each member of the team in various states of combat. Crossbones was nowhere to be found, while his men poured in from each doorway. These were just followers, volunteers. The real fight was yet to come. 

Bucky took a sharp inhale, steeled himself. He hadn't- hadn't hurt anything in months, didn't know if he could do it. But these weren't people deserving of mercy. They were murderers and Hydra operatives. Distance from that was what Bucky needed. The chance to show he'd never be one of them, not truly. Use the honed and sharpened skills of warfare to do something constructive. So Bucky rolled his shoulders, felt the smirk rise as a few agents recognized his face. Let the slow vibration make its way down his spine and he sprang from his coiled tension into action, fought like he never had. A haze of sharp blades and vibranium power. 

Steve stayed on his opposite side, watched Bucky's back like promised. As the Hydra operatives dwindled, the team moved towards the upper levels, sought out their real mission. Each half slipped through separate corridors, ready to alert the rest when Crossbones was found. Cap took the lead and rounded a corner to cross into another open room. This one marked by countless computers, wires, and lights that blinked continuously. Steve had intended  to pass through the room on their search, but they were stopped by a husking voice that reached out behind them, matched by a thud as hard boots hit the ground. 

“Captain America and The Falcon. Good to see you boys.” 

Steve and Sam swung around, shield and wings at the ready. Bucky was more hesitant. This was his old handler. The man who had personally had a hand in keeping him locked up and tortured for the least years of his Hydra sentence. Brock Rumlow had helped kill the human inside of Bucky Barnes. 

“Who's this?” Rumlow inquires, the movement of his shoulders seemed to taunt and poke at the few Avengers before him. 

Bucky clenched his jaw, as molten white rage seared in his veins. The presence of Steve beside his reminded him not to move yet, but when he had the chance,  _ God  _ Bucky was going to rip Brock Rumlow limb from limb and then make Steve a pretty necklace out of the bones. 

He turned, let his eyes fall into the lifeless holes in Crossbones’ mask. 

“Figured I'd come for the reunion.” Bucky growled. 

If a metal mask could look on in utter astonishment, Rumlow managed it well. A gravelly laugh echoed around the men. 

“Well, I was wonderin’ when I'd see you again, Barnes,” Crossbones husked out. 

“Cut the chase Rumlow. Where are the weapons?” Steve interrogated, sensing the tension as it turned iinto something more suffocating. 

“S.H.I.E.L.D is in pieces, Rogers. Hydra has plenty more heads.It’ll never be that easy.” Rumlow laughed, a dry, lifeless sound. 

Rumlow’s head cocked forward, and suddenly the room was flooded with his personal team. The six enhanced soldiers crept out from above, quickly followed by the Avengers Sam had alerted a few moments ago. Four Avengers took Crossbones’ operatives, while Steve and Bucky were left with Crossbones. Bucky growled, low and vicious in his throat, stepped forward. 

Steve didn't try to stop him this time, done with his attempt to get information. This man had taken so much from them, and Steve wasn't going to let him escape the compound with his life. He broke into a sprint after Bucky, and he three men started a dance. Crossbones could take a hit, and the shield could only be used so much in close combat. Steve pushed Rumlow back while Bucky's fist flew into the hunk of Metal covering his chest, sounding out a harsh clang. 

The two team mates kicked forward at the same time, causing Rumlow to careen back towards the far wall. When he straightened up, Crossbones hit a switch, flexed his arm as two gnarly blades extended from them. The assailant strode forward, and his blades swung dangerously. Steve held up his shield, head still on a swivel for Bucky. The man in question had clenched his fist and swung back over the blades before he narrowly avoided one being lodged into his metal arm. 

Steve took the opportunity and shifted into action. Steve quickly took hold of one blade as it careened around. When he grabbed Rumlow’s arm, Steve had to drop the shield. Rumlow let out a hoarse scream and slashed across his body to hit Steve, sliced through the captain’s abdomen. Steve let out a harsh yell and fell backwards in shock. Crossbones threw a punch, solid metal crunched into Steve's jaw, sent him down. A kick landed in his ribs before a final throw made impact with his head. Crossbones was then yanked off of Steve's shaking body as a metal fist formed around Rumlow’s exposed throat. 

Bucky sneered, practically foamed at the mouth as he pulled Crossbones off of Steve. He'd been jumped from behind by one of Rumlow's surviving men, before he managed to throw  him off to Sam. When Bucky had turned around, the air punched out of his lungs, almost knocked him senseless with rage. 

Rumlow had the audacity to laugh in Bucky's face. 

“Hydra isn't done with you, Soldier.” Rumlow spit. 

“Yes it is.” Bucky growled. 

Something had shifted in Bucky Barnes’ mind as he observed the  _ thing  _ in front of him. This wasn't a human,  _ this  _ was a monster. Someone who had caused pain and death completely of their own accord. Someone who had just hurt one of the only things Bucky had left. The human that had helped bring him back to humanity was lying on the floor bruised and bloody because of the thing in front of him. Something clicked. All the fighting earlier, it didn't feel real. But this, this felt raw and painful. It had an angry sting. The only difference being, Bucky's eyes were still bright, human, as he threw punch after cracking punch and realized that his other talents could be used for good, too. For taking out men like this one, and saving men like Steve. 

Crossbones spewed blood from his face as Bucky pummeled and broke him down. The bladed edges stilled as Rumlow collapsed, and Bucky dropped him. As he stared at the blood that speckled his hands, Bucky almost smiled. He chose his next words slowly, as they might have been that last Brock Rumlow would ever hear. 

“Everything has an end. Even Hydra. You lost, you son of a bitch.” 

When the rage started to ebb, Bucky remembered to turn around. His heart clenched as he watched Sam and Natasha stare up at him from Steve's side. 

“Paramedics are on the way, Barnes.” Natasha assured. 

It took Bucky a moment to realize how bad a shape Steve was really in. Bucky shifted out of autopilot and darted the few steps to Steve, slid to a kneel. He grabbed a clammy hand in his flesh one, and set a cool metal hand gently on Steve's face. Bucky started up a quiet cooing. 

“Hey, hey Stevie you're gonna be fine. They're gonna fix you right up, okay? Don't you worry, doll.” Bucky didn't even register the pet name when it slipped through his lips as Sam and Natasha shared a look as they stood.  

Steve barely moved, tried and failed to cough out a mangled version of Bucky's name. 

“Shhh, shhh it's okay Steve I'm here, I'm here.” Bucky's eyes widened and he tried to keep the ugly tears at bay as he glanced at the deep gash through Steve's abdomen. 

Despite popular belief, Steve Rogers was still human, and humans could die. Bucky was shot back to a time when this was commonplace, where he begged a sickly Steve Rogers to stay with him was routinely. He wouldn’t do it again. Bucky Barnes wouldn't lose this man, the holder of one end of his string to sanity, when he'd just found him again. Their thread of fate was wrapped so tight they'd never be apart again, but what happened if that string was severed? If one end wasn't there anymore? 

Bucky Barnes felt the tears as they slipped across his skin despite all his best efforts. He held Steve's hand so tight he thought it would break, whispered promises and soft words of love in Steve's ear. Laying a kiss on Steve's forehead, Bucky moved his eyes to look at the stretcher being rolled towards them. He only moved for the paramedics when Sam and Natasha pulled him off, barely comprehended the new arrival. Just Steve. Only Steve. 

_ I can't lose him. Not ever. Please, please don't let me lose him.  _


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! the last "official" chapter of the story! I'm contemplating a sequel, so drop a comment if you'd like to see one eventually! Thank you to everyone who took the time to read! :) 
> 
> Russian translations: Vy khorosho spravilis-You did well  
> Ya nadeyus- I hope

**New York City, 1940**

The summer of 1940 raged through the city with heat like never before. Two sweat drenched lovers leaned on bony shoulders strolled through central park in search of a place to stop and sit where they wouldn’t be seen. They found a suitable place, and the two planted themselves under a tree, relished in the shade it brought them. Bucky Barnes leaned back and closed his eyes after he folded his hands behind his head. Steve Rogers, who watched a particularly enticing drop of sweat carve a line down Bucky’s throat licked his lips and dove in. He caught the drop on his tongue. The smaller man felt the vibrations as Bucky laughed beneath him.

“Someone’s eager to get arrested.” Bucky chuckled.

Steve’s eyes rolled as he continued to suck his own trail up Bucky’s throat.

“As long as it’s with you, I don’t care.” Steve mumbled into the taller man’s skin.

Bucky lightly pulled Steve off him before they both tumbled onto the sun warmed grass. Bucky, hovering above the blond, held his lips just out of reach, teased as always.

“You big sap.” Bucky poked, unleashed that million dollar smile. It blocked out the sun but was somehow just as bright.

Bucky chuckled as Steve showed his impatience as he tugged his dark haired lover down to meet his lips. They kissed, deep and slow until the sun started to set, no desire to join the world again. When it was almost dark, and the streetlights popped on one by one, Bucky tugged Steve to his feet. They shared big grins with kiss swollen lips, practically danced into the night, arms on shoulders and hearts raced against lungs.

_Love._

★★★★★

Steve was underwater. Gallons and gallons pressed down on his skull, made sounds feel far off and half heard. There was a distant pain in his stomach and through his head that made  what noise that got through sting and throb. Steve wasn’t sure where he was. But Bucky wasn’t there. Steve wanted to feel Bucky’ hands in his, wanted to kiss those red lips until the burn all over went away. Until the water broke over his head and the air flooded his lungs again.

_Swim up._

_Break the surface. Find your lover._

★★★★★

Bucky was stressed, to say the least. He’d only left Steve’s side once in the forty eight hours the man had been in the hospital. The only time Bucky left was because Sam made him. Sam had taken Bucky home and instructed him to shower. By the time Bucky had scrubbed Rumlow’s blood off his hands, Sam had returned with Starbucks and a roll of the eyes as he realized even frappucinos couldn’t get Bucky to stay home. So Bucky sat by Steve’s side day and night, scowled at the nurses who eyed him warily. Steve’s hand stayed in Bucky’s while promises more for himself than Steve were whispered in the blond’s ear. When the doctor arrived and told Bucky and Sam Steve would be fine, both men collectively let out their held breath. Bucky almost cried right then, but those nurses were back, and he’d spent so long scowling at them he couldn't break his streak now. All he could do was wait, and occasionally talk to Sam and Natasha. Thor popped in once, scared Bucky so bad he’d almost strangled the god. Natasha brought him food and coffee until he had finally passed out, his head fallen next to his hand entwined with Steve’s.

Bucky rose out of his sleep to a hand as it stroked through his hair. _Steve._ Steve was awake. Bucky threw his head up, settled his startled gaze on the man who chuckled in front of him.

“Hey” Steve croaked out.

Bucky jumped up to grab the glass of water on the bedside table, hand never leaving Steve’s. Steve thanked him with a smile, gulped down the water like his life depended on it. Bucky watched closely, made sure every drop was gone before he took the glass from Steve.

“How do you feel?” Bucky asked, as his thumb stroked the back of Steve’s hand.

“Like I was stabbed in the stomach.” Steve tried for humor, but his chuckle died off when he noticed Bucky’s frown.

“Hey, hey, Buck I’m fine. I’m gonna be okay. We can go home soon. Don’t worry.” Steve promised, leaned down as much as he could to kiss Bucky’s head, but he winced on the way back up.

Bucky frowned more, kissing Steve’s hand.

“I’m so sorry, Stevie. I can’t lose you, I fucking can’t-”

“ _Bucky_. Bucky it’s all right. There’s nothing to be sorry about.” Steve calms the worried  man.

“You coulda died, Steve. He coulda taken you from me.” Bucky sniffed, felt the tears well in his eyes. Bucky thanked God the nurses hadn’t come in yet.

“But he didn’t. I’m fine, darlin’. You saved my life.” Steve said honestly, pierced Bucky with those damned eyes.

“I almost let you-” Bucky croaked.

“No. You stopped him. You don’t have anything to feel guilty about, Buck I _promise_ you. Okay?” Steve cuts him off, always the voice of reason.

Bucky hesitantly nodded, looked down again. He still felt the sharp pang of guilt in his chest when he glanced at the bandages that covered the man he loved.

_The man he loved._

Bucky lifted his head, as a blush dusted his cheeks. Their thread tugged, pulled the words out.

“I love you.” Bucky spoke with a clear voice, held Steve with his melted ice eyes.

Bucky thought Steve’s grin would break his perfect cheeks as a blush fell across the man’s cheeks to match Bucky’s.

“I love you too,” Steve replied. Sure and strong as he was a lifetime ago. “So _fucking much._ ”

It was Bucky's turn to chuckle softly, though Steve joined in, ignored the sting in his abdomen. They settled into a comfortable silence, before Steve leaned in to plant a gentle kiss onto Bucky's lips. He away too fast for the brunet’s liking. Steve smiled and met Bucky again, captured  his lips in a deep, languid kiss. Bucky smiled into it, let his tongue trace against Steve's.

The two were interrupted by a brisk knock on the door. They pulled apart as the doctor entered, and looked vaguely amused at the sight before him.

“I just wanted to make sure everything was all right over here. We got an alert that Captain Rogers’ heart rate had spiked.”

“N-no we’re- I’m fine, sir.” Steve stuttered out.

“All right. Just let us know if you need anything.” The doctor reminded.

Steve gave a polite nod. “Will do, sir.”

The doctor gave them a knowing look as he passed through the door on his way out.

Bucky glanced back to Steve, while Steve broke into a fit of possibly painful giggles. Bucky matched them with his own as they were reduced to tears in Steve's hospital room. As long as they came with smiles, Bucky couldn't complain.

Steve was released a day and a half later, much to Bucky's relief. He'd adamantly refused to leave Steve's room, until Steve's eyebrows had done the thing where they pull in and his eyes sparkled with defiance. Then Bucky had given up and gone to shower and change his clothes. He'd brought Steve back a warm sweater and the jeans that made Steve's ass look even more amazing than usual. Natasha came to drive them home, hugged Steve after scolding him for one again being stupidly reckless. She’d patted Bucky on the back, giving him a rare warm smile.

“Vy khorosho spravilis'.” Natasha said, going to her side of the car.

Bucky smiled at her over the hood.

“Ya nadeyus'.” Bucky said in a soft reply, glanced at Steve, already in the car.

Natasha gave Bucky one final lingering look before she slid in next to Steve. Bucky settled into the back and watched the city rush by in streaks of color. He was going home. He was safe and with people he loved and trusted.

Two weeks later, they settled back into their routine. Plants thrived, weekly group therapy, runs with Sam. All the Starbucks their hearts, mostly Bucky's, could desire. And kisses. Lots of kisses. Soft ones, deep desperate ones. In bed, in the kitchen, on the way in and out. Filling their days with little flits of bright color. Steve recovered quickly, now just left with a light scar that ran diagonally across his stomach. Bucky loved to trace it, whether it be with his fingers or tongue. Steve always laughed, stroked Bucky's hair and kissed his cheek. They were in love, and it couldn't feel more warm, more alive. More human.

At the end of the third week, Natasha came by. She sat  at the kitchen island and gripped her coffee mug before she slid her phone over to Steve.

“I've got a contact. Says he can help Bucky get the Hydra triggers out of his head.” Natasha starts.

Bucky's head flew up, eyes wide, and searched Natasha's face for any hint of a lie. There was none.

“Who is it?” Steve asked.

“His name is T’Challa. I helped his father avoid assassination a few years back. He's the prince of Wakanda, a country in Africa. One of the most technologically advanced countries in the world to be exact. They've got some kind of program they say can do the job, if you agree.” Natasha explains.

“What do they want in return?” Bucky questioned, wary.

“To help someone who didn't deserve their fate.” Natasha answered.

Bucky nodded, looked to Steve. If that was the case, there really wasn't any decision to be made. Steve gives a nod in return before they both turn to Natasha.

“When do we leave?” They ask in unison.

Natasha cracks a smile.

“Whenever you're ready, boys.”

The flight was long and quiet. Bucky stuck in a nervous mood, while he wondered f he was about to be a few steps closer to regaining everything he used to be. He was content with where he was, how far he'd come. But he'd never pass up the opportunity to go even farther. Steve held his hand the whole flight, and thumb rubbed calming circles. Bucky Barnes in a big metal box in the sky wasn't exactly the least anxious mixture.

Upon arrival they were greeted by a man in all black, who waited for them in front of a stylish town car. Natasha stepped forward first, and gave the man a small hug.

“T’Challa. Good to see you.” She smiled.

“Always a pleasure miss Romanoff.” The man spoke with a heavy accent. It from his lips like syrup.

T’Challa moved forward, going to shake the supersoldiers’ respective hands.

“It is a pleasure to meet you both.Please, come with me.” He ushered the three friends into the town car. T’Challa climbed in next to Natasha. Steve and Bucky took the seats opposite them, in seats that faced the other two.

The ride was filled with soft conversation as T'Challa explained the procedure. The entire process could take months, even years, but the prince vowed Bucky would come out as close to all of the Hydra being removed from his mind as was possible. Bucky nodded his way through the words. Contemplation flooded over him.He could have a life. A life with Steve, and his friends, maybe even help on missions, use all he knew for good. The thought sparked a glimmer of hope through his limbs. It stretched  and mending all the bruises and lesions. As the sun set on the humid night, the car pulled up to a state of the art building. Clothed in white reflective panels, and windows that glittered, the research facility towered like a benevolent myth.

T’Challa lead them to their respective rooms, and somehow Bucky and Steve were automatically roomed together. Bucky had a feeling Natasha was behind that little upgrade. It made him smile, the thought his friends knew the way he and Steve loved each other. Their room overlooked a flourishing green space filled with every plant Bucky could think of, and a few he’d never seen before. A sparkling pond shimmered in the center.  Bucky had travelled with his own small plants, and immediately he moved to set them up on the extravagant window sill, under a window the size of Steve’s bed in D.C. T'Challa left them with the promise of a tour in the morning, and a soft wish of restful sleep. Natasha hugged both men, kissed Bucky's hair when his turn came. She stepped back, crossed her arms with that soft smile, reserved for the men in front of her.

“This is going to be good. I’ve got faith in you, Barnes.” With that she turned to leave, but not before Bucky stopped her with his reply.

“Thank you, Natasha. For everything,” Bucky said, as emotion squeezed him.

“Any time, boys.” Said over her shoulder, as that trademark smirk rose to the surface.

Bucky and Steve both gave her crooked smiles, as they watched her retreat to her own quarters.

Bucky turned to the man he loved then, relished in the fact that he could say that again. That he could hold and kiss and _love_ this man. This monument to bravery and pain wrapped up in a leather jacket. Bucky couldn’t imagine being anywhere else, with anyone else. So he closed the space between them, trapped Steve’s soft, pink lips in a warm embrace with his own. So soft and full of love Bucky could almost cry with it. Bucky pulled back and cupped a hand to the blond’s cheek. The brunet gazed into those sea glass eyes.

“Tomorrow’s a big day.” He whispered.

“Something tells me you’ve got it in the bag, love.” Steve smiled before he pressed  a peck on Bucky’s mouth.

“I hope so, doll.” Bucky replied, returned the pet name with one of his own.

“You do. It’s just the start but we’ll do it. _Together._ Always.” Steve promised earnestly, as pure emotion read in his eyes.

“Always.” Bucky agreed, eyes closed as his brown locks fell to Steve’s shoulder, and the setting sun seeped through their bones and haloed their embrace.

Two souls in love, intertwined in ice and passion, woven into shapes to keep them warm. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes were never meant to anywhere else, have any other fate. If there was one thing the past year had taught them, it was that recovery was never linear. It bit and scratched until you found way to bend it to your will, made it understand you. Love was never a straight line either. It was dips and doubts, fear and highs. Perfect nights to play off stormy days. But no matter what, a thin red string wove through lifetimes and promises, to keep two matching pieces tied up tight. Fate had a funny way of working itself out, even when all hope seemed lost. Nothing about it was ever guaranteed, but maybe fate could make an exception for two hearts from Brooklyn, who found home in the hands of familiar embraces.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus mini chapter!

**Natasha**

Natasha Romanoff wasn’t one for falling in love, or trusting just anyone. But she was one for noticing just about everything. It only made sense that she’d see the subtle touches and suppressed smiles. Natasha had a good enough eye to be able to tell when two people were in love. These men were in love and they both knew it, but Nat also half the eye to conclude neither man had expressed it to the other. It all slid perfectly into view the day Natasha spent more time on observation of the two soldiers in front of her than on the movie Steve had wanted to see. When Steve’s eyes were on the screen, Bucky’s were glued to Steve’s face, roaming his jaw and flitting around his lips.

 _Ugh, repressed love,_ Nat couldn’t help but think. But she cracked a smile when she caught Bucky’s eye. He wasn’t as covert as he thought. The blush sprang to his cheeks then, as he averted his eyes to his lap. It was then that Steve took the opportunity to rake his eyes down Bucky’s form, seafoam eyes lit up. Natasha took this time to follow Steve’s line of sight, eyes landing on the clasped hands between them.

_Good God are these two serious?_

Natasha Romanoff wasn’t one for relationships, but damn could she see when two people needed to be in one, even if they practically already were.  


**Sam**

The day Sam drove Bucky home from group therapy, the two men had an… _enlightening_  conversation on the ride. Sam had glanced over at Bucky’s thoughtful face, wondering how to give the man a little reprieve from all the things that must have been swirling in his head.

“How are you and Steve doing, living together again and all?” Sam tried.

Bucky seemed to startle slightly, coming back to the moment as he answered.

“We’re good. Steve is.. good.” Bucky slid into a dopey smile them, obviously thinking of something specific.

“That’s good, man. I’m happy for you. Both of you.” Sam replied.

“He’s just so, so great, ya know? He’s perfect, Sam.” Bucky continued.

Sam’s eyes widened a little as something sunk in.

These two idiots were completely fucking in love, and it was fairly adorable, if not hilarious. Sam laughed, shaking his head at the brunet.

“It’s great you’re happy, Buck.”

Bucky nodded, pensive again, this time with a tiny smile. Sam had to shake his head again as he pulled off the freeway, wondering how two men so reserved could melt to complete mush at the thought of each other.

_Man this really is adorable._


	12. Art Compilation

Here is all of the amazing art created for this fic!

Art by: sorrowingsoldier on Tumblr

 

 

 

 

Art by: starmaki on Tumblr


	13. Playlist

A playlist of all the songs that inspired/remind me of this fic.

1) Monsters- Ruelle  
2) Jacked Up- Weezer  
3) Control- Halsey  
4) Organs- Of Monsters and Men  
5) Perfect Places- Lorde  
6) Now or Never- Halsey  
7) Green Light- Lorde  
8) Fake Happy- Paramore  
9) Pool- Paramore   
10) Youth-Troye Sivan  
11) Empty- Kevin Abstract   
12) King and Lionheart- Of Monsters and Men  
13) Broken Crown- Mumford and Sons  
14) Love- Kendrick Lamar  
15) No Light, No Light- Florence + The Machine  
16) A Step You Can't Take Back- Kiera Knightly   
17) Everybody Wants To Rule the World- Lorde


End file.
